Gentle Hurtings
by aswewalked
Summary: To go on a perilous journey with the devil himself. Hm, it definitely sounded interesting if not a bit suicidal, not a task Raine had ever dreamed she would have to, much less want to, take on.
1. Always Faithful

_Desire and  
All the sweet pulsing aches  
And **gentle hurtings**  
That were you,  
Are gone into the sullen dark.  
Now in the night you come unsmiling  
To lie with me  
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet  
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul._

_- __Killed Paive - July 8 - 1918 by Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Always Faithful**

**-x-**

Her legs, strong, slender, and scarred, were helplessly entwined with his. His tanned skin contrasted so beautifully, yet so repulsively, with her own pale coloring. He touched with greed that was selfless and fire that was cold, scouring hungrily over her flesh. He left no place untasted or untouched, no place left untainted by the darkness of the sin that was self-indulgence. His erotic groans, her gentle sighs of his name, did not hesitate to slip from bruised lips, the sounds of pleasure resonating through the walls of that dirty, little shack. The smell of wine and sweat combined to assault their heightened senses. Her hands were tangled in his gruff blonde hair, his calloused palms caressed her sides and back and chest. His steady thrusts did not miss a beat, only quickened with their hearts as the point of rapture neared. Then, both laid breathless on their backs, upon a thin mattress stuffed with straw. Their bare chests heaved as they gasped for much needed air. In the dim glow of a lone lantern that swung from the sealing, a thin film of sweat born from fiery passion made their skin gleam. Laying there beside the soldier that night in a very short-lived state of ecstasy, Raine, the Queen of Albion, wondered where things had gone so wrong.

**-x-**

Elliot was a fine man; a very genuine and kind man. One whose compassion saw no boundaries... and whose boundaries were never overstepped. He shone with a gentle spirit; one that complimented his affectionate exterior and echoed his selflessness. He was solicitous towards those who treated him well, and sympathetic towards those who did him wrong. He had a zealousness for helping people, like no one Raine had ever known. A fine man, indeed. And someday he would make a fine King. It was a fact that was undebatable. He and Raine were the most envied of all the couples in Albion. Elliot loved Raine. And Raine sincerely loved him back.

However...

Elliot was naive. In many ways, he was still the innocent, unchanged, young lad Raine had met years ago. The same child she had played with in the gardens until the sun went to sleep, the same boy who'd crept up to her room when the moon rose in place. The same young man whose life she had chose before those of the demonstration leaders... It seemed so long ago. She had been like him as well, once. But she could hardly remember the girl she had once been.

The Revolution had changed more than Albion, it had changed _her_, though no one may have noticed it to the degree she felt it. It had forced hardships upon her, given her experiences she'd rather not speak of, burdens she wouldn't wish upon anyone. She had grown up, and left the ever-young Elliot, with all his boyish charm, choking on the dust of her trail. His love was innocent, blameless and pure in nature. It fed her own love and ate her heart away at the same time.

It often seemed Elliot was more her moral barometer than her swain. Someone shining in white, who she would look at and know she could never resemble again. And that fact was wearing on her, as it had been ever since the pair reunited in the cesspools.

Raine needed someone who could share the encumbrances she now carried. Someone who was capable of relating to her trials, to having the blood of thousands of people, innocent or otherwise, dripping from her hands, someone who could understand the responsibility of her unwarranted_ gifts_ and her undesired duty to use them. It had taken her too long to realize that, and there was no escaping it now.

**-x-**

The day she'd usurped her brother's throne had been one of much rejoicing indeed, but it was not until the next evening that a grand ball had been held at the castle to celebrate her coronation. While Hobbeson had been the one to come to her with the request, Raine had a suspicion that a certain over-industrious business tycoon was behind such a party. In the year or so she'd spent away from castle life, she had become rather withdrawn and unsocial, so she had originally rejected the idea. But Hobbeson persisted, "But, your majesty. Surely you wouldn't want the populace to think you do not hold your own triumph as cause for celebration, do you?"

Raine replied with contemplative silence before sighing heavily with a rather vexed expression "Very well, throw your party. But don't expect me to attend."

Ah, but she was there. Of course it was an hour after the party had begun that she finally showed up, but she was there at least, gliding down the stairs in her blue, royal dress to grace her visitants with her presence. She kept her eyes peeled for the fop that called himself Reaver, not sure if she did or did not wish to see him. To her surprise, she didn't spot him, a fact that didn't change for the rest of the night. While she instantly became quizzical of such an out of character move from him, she excused the thought and decided he'd probably found some lovely group of gentlepeople to spend the evening with. _In one of my rooms_, Raine thought bitterly with a disgusted shudder. It was for the best, she supposed, as she hadn't seen him since he had ruthlessly attempted to kill her, and then frankly invited her into his bed along with Page. Of course, he hadn't recognized who she was for the mask at the time. But their latest encounter would make their next meeting all the more awkward. Besides, she was in no mood for his antics tonight after the trying couple of days she'd just had.

Even so, she carried herself with an air of confidence as if she hadn't sentenced her brother to death or learned of Albion's doom only hours before. She'd ate and drank, laughed and danced, mingled with the commoners and nobles alike. For about an hour the world seemed to be getting back to normal, despite everything that _wasn't_ normal in her life at the moment. But then she'd overheard two nobles, gossiping as they always did.

"Well, if you ask me, its a good thing he's dead. No one needs him around to influence the Queen's decisions. Albion will heal faster without him." One of them had told the other, sticking her nose in the air, voice dripping with contempt for the deceased tyrant.

Logan's execution had occurred early that day, but due to the shock of the news he had delivered just before his death, the weight of the situation hadn't hit Raine until just then. Memories began to flood her mind of her older brother, the times he held her when she was scared, made her laugh when she was sad, and soothed her when she was upset. The times he'd protected her from all the awful things in the world.

She had killed her own brother.

And it was a very heavy load to take on so suddenly. So, the Queen succumbed to her emotions. She ran briskly away from the crowd, from the liveliness of the ballroom. Tears pricked the chocolate eyes hiding behind tresses of chestnut hair that had fallen from where they were cleverly woven into a bun. A rapid staccato of boot heels clicking against the castle floor followed the blur of her regal gown as servants and guests alike ducked out of the distraught Queen's way. She was far too gone to even take heed that they were there. She just ran, and did not stop until she reached the gardens. There, she fell to her knees before his statue.

Her arms folded over his white-rock boots, her damp eyes buried in the crook of her elbow, her nose pressed against the cold surface of the stone. She stayed there, weeping his name and crying for some sign, just a bit of evidence, anything that would lead her to believe he forgave her for her heinous crime. Kinslayer... Her own brother, her only blood relative left in this world, dead by her hand! She had never felt so guilty, so alone.

She wasn't sure how long she'd remained that way, nor how many people had seen her, before she felt a warm hand gripping her shoulder tightly but tenderly. With a startled gasp, she turned abruptly and shifted her gaze up to find soft, blue eyes looking down upon her with pity. A sad but comforting smile framed by blonde sideburns was offered to her.

"Captain Finn, I-" For once, she was speechless in the presence of the soldier she'd become fairly acquainted with. Though she considered him to be one among her strongest allies, she did not think their relationship went past being comrades. So for him to witness her in such a state of emotional vulnerability was quite unsuitable. She imagined she was quite a sight now with tears streaming down her red-splotched face, hair in a mess and grass and dirt smudged on her blue gown from where she'd collapsed in the grass

"I...didn't hear you come up." She managed to choke the words out as she shrugged away from the hand on her shoulder, denying herself the comfort of human commiseration, and stood to begin straightening her dress.

"No, I wouldn't think so...since I've been standing just over there since you came out and all..." He stated with more confidence to his grin than Raine wanted to see at that moment, as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to where he had stood unnoticed moments ago.

"Oh..." She sniffed, her face taking on an even more flushed color as her eyes set upon the direction of his signal, to a bench placed a few yards away from where Raine had blindly fallen to her knees. "Great." She said sarcastically, wiping the last tears away and in the process dampening the fingers of her black leather gloves.

"Aye." He said with amusement before his tone took on an almost reluctant hopefulness at his next question. "Do you..want to tell me what-"

"No." Raine answered a bit too quickly, not even bothering to look at him as she continued to fumble with the creases in her attire.

He was silent for a while, long enough for Raine's eyes to flicker back to him with question for the sudden quietude. Her brow furrowed in slight agitation when she looked up to find him staring intently at the statue of her late brother. "Miss him, do you?" Came his simple words, oblivious to their husky tone. The concerned smile had fled from his lips, and a crease had formed between his brows as they knotted together over cerulean orbs that once sparkled with a gentle sympathy for his Queen and comrade but now had dimmed to a near brooding sadness.

Raine sighed, hung her head in defeat for confirmation of his question, not wishing to spoil the solemn moment with her predictably shaky tone. She did not need to ask why he'd taken on the sudden change in character, for she knew why already. He was as torn, as overwrought with guilt as she was, though not for the same person of course. He'd had no great love for the King. While his influence was key in her decision to execute Logan, he also held no real responsibility for the King's death, and Raine did not hold him to any either. No...his sadness was directed at the death of another: Major Swift.

Despite everyone's attempts to convince him that there was nothing he could've done to stop it, he still felt as though he was partially at fault for the death of Major Swift, a man who had been more like a father to him than his true one had ever thought to be. Raine supposed him seeing her so hysterical over a situation so similar (in the sense that both deaths were a result of this damned Revolution) to his own had brought back the temporarily overlooked notion of Swift's death. At this, she felt another pang of guilt and dropped her gaze to the grass but said nothing, so more moments passed them by in a now bitter silence.

"Raine..." He breathed, and she noted it was the first time he'd ever called her by anything other than a title, mockingly or not. "If there's ever a reason you _need_ me, my door's always open." He said. Raine looked up, knew the contents of that proposal went far deeper than anything he stated, and found herself considering. There was no kindness left to his tone, only an offering to which they would both benefit. For he was lonely, too, and needed comfort just as badly.

Ben was of the few people who were aware that what her and Elliot shared was special but conflicting at the same time. Because of this the soldier also knew Elliot couldn't offer her solace for anything that tormented her, because he'd never experienced true torment himself, whereas Ben had remained by her side nearly the entire time. Not to mention, he had undergone plenty of his own trials before even meeting her. In addition, while Elliot wouldn't mean to hurt Raine, he would surely have something to say about Logan's death. Raine knew Ben wasn't exactly the man she needed, and she certainly did not _love_ him. But... He could understand her struggles now better than Elliot could, that much was definitely true...

Before she could reply, she felt his lips graze her own. The kiss had been chaste and respectful, more similar to one that could be shared between close family members. But it was warm and inviting, and apparently successful, as she gradually desiring more with every step he then continued to take from her.

In the youth of that evening, she'd excused the whole thing and instead resorted to looking for comfort elsewhere, drowning herself in her cups as she jested and chortled and made bawdy jokes with Walter and her other soldiers as if it was any other day. She ignored it and pretended not to hear when some nobles whispered of how it did not become a Lady Queen to drink with the common rabble that were her soldiers. She silently thought of how it did not become a Lady Queen to do _many _of the things she had done.

She managed to forget Ben's allure for the time being. But towards the hour of midnight and into the earliest of morn, when the guests slowly began to disappear from the castle, she was overcome by that terrible feeling of loneliness again.

She recalled being a child again, staying up late with Logan and sneaking out of bed whenever her parents would host a ball to spy upon the events. They'd always had such a laugh observing the drunken guests stumbling like idiots around the castle. Her eyes, then so innocent, would flitter from the elegant dresses or suits of the nobles. And her cheeks would blush whenever she saw some of the guests behaving more rambunctiously. Never unseen among these people was the great Reaver. She could remember watching him on those nights. His charisma had no comparison, and a large flock of beautiful people, men and women alike, followed his every move. _He _was the most "rambunctious" of all. Logan would always laugh at her blush before hugging her tight and lightly kissing her on the head. _Come on,_ he would say. _Mother would be cross if she knew you were watching this. _He warned her, but by the time of the next party, she always convinced him to go spy with her again. And he always agreed.

He'd been older than her by a good ten years, but Raine was the only playmate he'd ever known. She'd had Elliot who was of a closer age to her, of course, and perhaps that was why her older brother had taken a disliking to the boy from the start, mere jealousy. She could relate. When Logan came of a suitable age for betrothal and pretty, young women began to visit the castle more often, she felt those same pangs of envy when his attentions were stolen from her for a time. He was never gone long. He had always denied those women. Marriage wasn't for him; not yet, at least, he would say. Then they would steal away to the gardens, and he would wrestle around in the grass and flowers with her, content to pretend that he was still a child, that their only living parent was not slowly dying of an unknown sickness, and that the Crown would not fall to him sooner than it should. But even after he was King, in those years before he'd grown bitter, he would take time out of his day to see her, play with her, teach her tricks with a sword, or tell her stories about his adventures.

She couldn't have asked for a better brother. Even in his cruelty of the past four years, he had only been trying to protect Albion. Protect her. To think of such things only worsened her feeling of guilt, and strengthened her need for some comfort.

Ben had left the castle sometime earlier that night and returned to his shack in Bowerstone Industrial...but Raine perhaps had indulged in a bit more wine than she should have. Perhaps a lot more... In fact, she could hardly see straight walking out of the castle. On her way out of the front courtyard, she felt herself bump into something, or someone - she wasn't sure which. But she didn't care, and pushed past whatever was blocking her without a thought. She was vaguely aware of a familiar voice asking where she was going. But she couldn't find it in her to respond, or even look back to see who it was.

With the wine now singing in her veins, she failed to notice the pair of smoldering, umber hues watching her, nor did she hear the distinguished, light tap of a cane following her down the path away from the castle. Before her dissipated mind knew it, she was knocking roughly on the door of Ben's meek little dwelling on the outskirts of Industrial. He answered the door with a fair amount of surprise, but it was apparent by the smell he was just as intoxicated as she was. And in her right mind, she would have been surprised that he'd not already taken a whore that night.

All she needed to do was look at him for him to understand why she was there. They'd wasted no time with words, giving in to their desire before the door even began to close. In a drunken stupor coupled by the hypnotism received from each other, both were unsuccessful in noticing the pair of smirking, green eyes that glimpsed their lips meeting just before the door shut.

That night, Ben kept her from thoughts of murder and from her brother's bittersweet memory. But when she awoke the morning after, with naked arms wrapped tightly around her and an untrimmed chest hugging the curve of her spine, she was overwhelmed with the regret that was thrusted upon her. It had been a night to remember no doubt, but now she found herself struggling to do so. What the _hell_ had she been thinking? Indeed, nothing at all. Did anyone else know? What would Elliot say if he found out? All she knew was that she'd made quite a mistake.

_Oh, Raine, what have you done?_

**A/N - Hey, all. First off, thanks a MILLION for even bothering to read this! I know I said it was Reaver x Princess, but it does start out sort of as Princess x Ben and mentions Princess x Elliot. But, don't you worry, I value my life far too much to risk not putting Reaver in a story... Well, again thanks for reading. If you could leave a review and tell me what you liked and didn't like, it would be GREATLY appreciated! Although, I ask that you refrain from being too mean, of course... I'm a tender soul. ^_^**

**Gentle Hurtings**

"_Where there is love, there is pain."_

_-a Spanish proverb._

**Chapter 1 - Always Faithful**

**-x-**

Her legs, strong, slender, and scarred, were helplessly entwined with his. His tanned skin contrasted so beautifully, yet so repulsively, with her own pale coloring. He touched with greed that was selfless and fire that was cold, scouring hungrily over her flesh. He left no place untasted or untouched, no place left untainted by the darkness of the sin that was self-indulgence. His erotic groans, her gentle sighs of his name, did not hesitate to slip from bruised lips, the sounds of pleasure resonating through the walls of that dirty, little shack. The smell of wine and sweat combined to assault their heightened senses. Her hands were tangled in his gruff blonde hair, his calloused palms caressed her sides and back and chest. His steady thrusts did not miss a beat, only quickened with their hearts as the point of rapture neared. Then, both laid breathless on their backs, upon a thin mattress stuffed with straw. Their bare chests heaved as they gasped for much needed air. In the dim glow of a lone lantern that swung from the sealing, a thin film of sweat born from fiery passion made their skin gleam. Laying there beside the soldier that night in a very short-lived state of ecstasy, Raine, the Queen of Albion, wondered where things had gone so wrong.

**-x-**

Elliot was a fine man; a very genuine and kind man. One whose compassion saw no boundaries... and whose boundaries were never overstepped. He shone with a gentle spirit; one that complimented his affectionate exterior and echoed his selflessness. He was solicitous towards those who treated him well, and sympathetic towards those who did him wrong. He had a zealousness for helping people, like no one Raine had ever known. A fine man, indeed. And someday he would make a fine King. It was a fact that was undebatable. He and Raine were the most envied of all the couples in Albion. Elliot loved Raine. And Raine sincerely loved him back.

However...

Elliot was naive. In many ways, he was still the innocent, unchanged, young lad Raine had met years ago. The same child she had played with in the gardens until the sun went to sleep, the same boy who'd crept up to her room when the moon rose in place. The same young man whose life she had chose before those of the demonstration leaders... It seemed so long ago. She had been like him as well, once. But she could hardly remember the girl she had once been.

The Revolution had changed more than Albion, it had changed _her_, though no one may have noticed it to the degree she felt it. It had forced hardships upon her, given her experiences she'd rather not speak of, burdens she wouldn't wish upon anyone. She had grown up, and left the ever-young Elliot, with all his boyish charm, choking on the dust of her trail. His love was innocent, blameless and pure in nature. It fed her own love and ate her heart away at the same time.

It often seemed Elliot was more her moral barometer than her swain. Someone shining in white, who she would look at and know she could never resemble again. And that fact was wearing on her, as it had been ever since the pair reunited in the cesspools.

Raine needed someone who could share the encumbrances she now carried. Someone who was capable of relating to her trials, to having the blood of thousands of people, innocent or otherwise, dripping from her hands, someone who could understand the responsibility of her unwarranted_ gifts_ and her undesired duty to use them. It had taken her too long to realize that, and there was no escaping it now.

**-x-**

The day she'd usurped her brother's throne had been one of much rejoicing indeed, but it was not until the next evening that a grand ball had been held at the castle to celebrate her coronation. While Hobbeson had been the one to come to her with the request, Raine had a suspicion that a certain over-industrious business tycoon was behind such a party. In the year or so she'd spent away from castle life, she had become rather withdrawn and unsocial, so she had originally rejected the idea. But Hobbeson persisted, "But, your majesty. Surely you wouldn't want the populace to think you do not hold your own triumph as cause for celebration, do you?"

Raine replied with contemplative silence before sighing heavily with a rather vexed expression "Very well, throw your party. But don't expect me to attend."

Ah, but she was there. Of course it was an hour after the party had begun that she finally showed up, but she was there at least, gliding down the stairs in her blue, royal dress to grace her visitants with her presence. She kept her eyes peeled for the fop that called himself Reaver, not sure if she did or did not wish to see him. To her surprise, she didn't spot him, a fact that didn't change for the rest of the night. While she instantly became quizzical of such an out of character move from him, she excused the thought and decided he'd probably found some lovely group of gentlepeople to spend the evening with. _In one of my rooms_, Raine thought bitterly with a disgusted shudder. It was for the best, she supposed, as she hadn't seen him since he had ruthlessly attempted to kill her, and then frankly invited her into his bed along with Page. Of course, he hadn't recognized who she was for the mask at the time. But their latest encounter would make their next meeting all the more awkward. Besides, she was in no mood for his antics tonight after the trying couple of days she'd just had.

Even so, she carried herself with an air of confidence as if she hadn't sentenced her brother to death or learned of Albion's doom only hours before. She'd ate and drank, laughed and danced, mingled with the commoners and nobles alike. For about an hour the world seemed to be getting back to normal, despite everything that _wasn't_ normal in her life at the moment. But then she'd overheard two nobles, gossiping as they always did.

"Well, if you ask me, its a good thing he's dead. No one needs him around to influence the Queen's decisions. Albion will heal faster without him." One of them had told the other, sticking her nose in the air, voice dripping with contempt for the deceased tyrant.

Logan's execution had occurred early that day, but due to the shock of the news he had delivered just before his death, the weight of the situation hadn't hit Raine until just then. Memories began to flood her mind of her older brother, the times he held her when she was scared, made her laugh when she was sad, and soothed her when she was upset. The times he'd protected her from all the awful things in the world.

She had killed her own brother.

And it was a very heavy load to take on so suddenly. So, the Queen succumbed to her emotions. She ran briskly away from the crowd, from the liveliness of the ballroom. Tears pricked the chocolate eyes hiding behind tresses of chestnut hair that had fallen from where they were cleverly woven into a bun. A rapid staccato of boot heels clicking against the castle floor followed the blur of her regal gown as servants and guests alike ducked out of the distraught Queen's way. She was far too gone to even take heed that they were there. She just ran, and did not stop until she reached the gardens. There, she fell to her knees before his statue.

Her arms folded over his white-rock boots, her damp eyes buried in the crook of her elbow, her nose pressed against the cold surface of the stone. She stayed there, weeping his name and crying for some sign, just a bit of evidence, anything that would lead her to believe he forgave her for her heinous crime. Kinslayer... Her own brother, her only blood relative left in this world, dead by her hand! She had never felt so guilty, so alone.

She wasn't sure how long she'd remained that way, nor how many people had seen her, before she felt a warm hand gripping her shoulder tightly but tenderly. With a startled gasp, she turned abruptly and shifted her gaze up to find soft, blue eyes looking down upon her with pity. A sad but comforting smile framed by blonde sideburns was offered to her.

"Captain Finn, I-" For once, she was speechless in the presence of the soldier she'd become fairly acquainted with. Though she considered him to be one among her strongest allies, she did not think their relationship went past being comrades. So for him to witness her in such a state of emotional vulnerability was quite unsuitable. She imagined she was quite a sight now with tears streaming down her red-splotched face, hair in a mess and grass and dirt smudged on her blue gown from where she'd collapsed in the grass

"I...didn't hear you come up." She managed to choke the words out as she shrugged away from the hand on her shoulder, denying herself the comfort of human commiseration, and stood to begin straightening her dress.

"No, I wouldn't think so...since I've been standing just over there since you came out and all..." He stated with more confidence to his grin than Raine wanted to see at that moment, as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to where he had stood unnoticed moments ago.

"Oh..." She sniffed, her face taking on an even more flushed color as her eyes set upon the direction of his signal, to a bench placed a few yards away from where Raine had blindly fallen to her knees. "Great." She said sarcastically, wiping the last tears away and in the process dampening the fingers of her black leather gloves.

"Aye." He said with amusement before his tone took on an almost reluctant hopefulness at his next question. "Do you..want to tell me what-"

"No." Raine answered a bit too quickly, not even bothering to look at him as she continued to fumble with the creases in her attire.

He was silent for a while, long enough for Raine's eyes to flicker back to him with question for the sudden quietude. Her brow furrowed in slight agitation when she looked up to find him staring intently at the statue of her late brother. "Miss him, do you?" Came his simple words, oblivious to their husky tone. The concerned smile had fled from his lips, and a crease had formed between his brows as they knotted together over cerulean orbs that once sparkled with a gentle sympathy for his Queen and comrade but now had dimmed to a near brooding sadness.

Raine sighed, hung her head in defeat for confirmation of his question, not wishing to spoil the solemn moment with her predictably shaky tone. She did not need to ask why he'd taken on the sudden change in character, for she knew why already. He was as torn, as overwrought with guilt as she was, though not for the same person of course. He'd had no great love for the King. While his influence was key in her decision to execute Logan, he also held no real responsibility for the King's death, and Raine did not hold him to any either. No...his sadness was directed at the death of another: Major Swift.

Despite everyone's attempts to convince him that there was nothing he could've done to stop it, he still felt as though he was partially at fault for the death of Major Swift, a man who had been more like a father to him than his true one had ever thought to be. Raine supposed him seeing her so hysterical over a situation so similar (in the sense that both deaths were a result of this damned Revolution) to his own had brought back the temporarily overlooked notion of Swift's death. At this, she felt another pang of guilt and dropped her gaze to the grass but said nothing, so more moments passed them by in a now bitter silence.

"Raine..." He breathed, and she noted it was the first time he'd ever called her by anything other than a title, mockingly or not. "If there's ever a reason you _need_ me, my door's always open." He said. Raine looked up, knew the contents of that proposal went far deeper than anything he stated, and found herself considering. There was no kindness left to his tone, only an offering to which they would both benefit. For he was lonely, too, and needed comfort just as badly.

Ben was of the few people who were aware that what her and Elliot shared was special but conflicting at the same time. Because of this the soldier also knew Elliot couldn't offer her solace for anything that tormented her, because he'd never experienced true torment himself, whereas Ben had remained by her side nearly the entire time. Not to mention, he had undergone plenty of his own trials before even meeting her. In addition, while Elliot wouldn't mean to hurt Raine, he would surely have something to say about Logan's death. Raine knew Ben wasn't exactly the man she needed, and she certainly did not _love_ him. But... He could understand her struggles now better than Elliot could, that much was definitely true...

Before she could reply, she felt his lips graze her own. The kiss had been chaste and respectful, more similar to one that could be shared between close family members. But it was warm and inviting, and apparently successful, as she gradually desiring more with every step he then continued to take from her.

In the youth of that evening, she'd excused the whole thing and instead resorted to looking for comfort elsewhere, drowning herself in her cups as she jested and chortled and made bawdy jokes with Walter and her other soldiers as if it was any other day. She ignored it and pretended not to hear when some nobles whispered of how it did not become a Lady Queen to drink with the common rabble that were her soldiers. She silently thought of how it did not become a Lady Queen to do _many _of the things she had done.

She managed to forget Ben's allure for the time being. But towards the hour of midnight and into the earliest of morn, when the guests slowly began to disappear from the castle, she was overcome by that terrible feeling of loneliness again.

She recalled being a child again, staying up late with Logan and sneaking out of bed whenever her parents would host a ball to spy upon the events. They'd always had such a laugh observing the drunken guests stumbling like idiots around the castle. Her eyes, then so innocent, would flitter from the elegant dresses or suits of the nobles. And her cheeks would blush whenever she saw some of the guests behaving more rambunctiously. Never unseen among these people was the great Reaver. She could remember watching him on those nights. His charisma had no comparison, and a large flock of beautiful people, men and women alike, followed his every move. _He _was the most "rambunctious" of all. Logan would always laugh at her blush before hugging her tight and lightly kissing her on the head. _Come on,_ he would say. _Mother would be cross if she knew you were watching this. _He warned her, but by the time of the next party, she always convinced him to go spy with her again. And he always agreed.

He'd been older than her by a good ten years, but Raine was the only playmate he'd ever known. She'd had Elliot who was of a closer age to her, of course, and perhaps that was why her older brother had taken a disliking to the boy from the start, mere jealousy. She could relate. When Logan came of a suitable age for betrothal and pretty, young women began to visit the castle more often, she felt those same pangs of envy when his attentions were stolen from her for a time. He was never gone long. He had always denied those women. Marriage wasn't for him; not yet, at least, he would say. Then they would steal away to the gardens, and he would wrestle around in the grass and flowers with her, content to pretend that he was still a child, that their only living parent was not slowly dying of an unknown sickness, and that the Crown would not fall to him sooner than it should. But even after he was King, in those years before he'd grown bitter, he would take time out of his day to see her, play with her, teach her tricks with a sword, or tell her stories about his adventures.

She couldn't have asked for a better brother. Even in his cruelty of the past four years, he had only been trying to protect Albion. Protect her. To think of such things only worsened her feeling of guilt, and strengthened her need for some comfort.

Ben had left the castle sometime earlier that night and returned to his shack in Bowerstone Industrial...but Raine perhaps had indulged in a bit more wine than she should have. Perhaps a lot more... In fact, she could hardly see straight walking out of the castle. On her way out of the front courtyard, she felt herself bump into something, or someone - she wasn't sure which. But she didn't care, and pushed past whatever was blocking her without a thought. She was vaguely aware of a familiar voice asking where she was going. But she couldn't find it in her to respond, or even look back to see who it was.

With the wine now singing in her veins, she failed to notice the pair of smoldering, umber hues watching her, nor did she hear the distinguished, light tap of a cane following her down the path away from the castle. Before her dissipated mind knew it, she was knocking roughly on the door of Ben's meek little dwelling on the outskirts of Industrial. He answered the door with a fair amount of surprise, but it was apparent by the smell he was just as intoxicated as she was. And in her right mind, she would have been surprised that he'd not already taken a whore that night.

All she needed to do was look at him for him to understand why she was there. They'd wasted no time with words, giving in to their desire before the door even began to close. In a drunken stupor coupled by the hypnotism received from each other, both were unsuccessful in noticing the pair of smirking, green eyes that glimpsed their lips meeting just before the door shut.

That night, Ben kept her from thoughts of murder and from her brother's bittersweet memory. But when she awoke the morning after, with naked arms wrapped tightly around her and an untrimmed chest hugging the curve of her spine, she was overwhelmed with the regret that was thrusted upon her. It had been a night to remember no doubt, but now she found herself struggling to do so. What the _hell_ had she been thinking? Indeed, nothing at all. Did anyone else know? What would Elliot say if he found out? All she knew was that she'd made quite a mistake.

_Oh, Raine, what have you done?_

* * *

**{A/N - Hey, all. First off, I'd ****thanks a MILLION for even bothering to read this! I know I said it was Reaver x Princess, but it does start out sort of as Princess x Ben and mentions Princess x Elliot. But, don't you worry, I value my life far too much to risk not putting Reaver in a story... Well, again thanks for reading. If you could leave a review and tell me what you liked or didn't like, it would be GREATLY appreciated! Although, I ask that you refrain from being too mean, of course... I'm a tender soul. ^_^}**

_*Disclaimer - I don't own the characters or the world used in this story nor the poem that it is inspired by, nor do I seek to gain a profit from them, so calm yoself ._._


	2. Never Cheap

**Gentle Hurtings**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Never Cheap**

It came as no surprise to neither Ben nor Raine that they both agreed equally: the one shared night had been a mistake. Neither of them could afford to indulge in featherbrained fantasy or give in to a trivial tingling of lust. Besides, Ben still had his heart set on Page. And as Queen of Albion, Raine had to put a country before her own unimportant wants and desires. Albion needed a monarch who could devote themselves wholly to her, and Raine could not achieve that with someone like Ben. If Raine was ever to marry, Albion would need her King to be a good and stable partner, which fit the definition of Elliot nicely. Not so much Ben. Besides, Elliot was the one she loved. Not Ben.

So, they resolved to forget the night had ever happened altogether. In a perfect world, well enough would have just been left alone. However, the current state of the world was a far cry from perfection and as a result of this, Nature took its course. It just so happened that this course's central theme was its refusal to allow the unfaithful Queen and her adulterer to get off their sinful deed without payment...

**-x-**

A month and a half had passed since that series of events, and so far the pair had managed to keep that drunken act in the shrouds of a dark secret. They were the only ones to know, at least as far as their knowledge went. But if anyone else did know, they were keeping their lips tight on it. For that Raine was grateful, even if said person was the most despicable she'd ever met.

Oh, if she only knew...

"Are you all right, majesty?" Her servant called out after realizing the Queen had suddenly fled for the bucket she'd conveniently stashed under her bed, knowing the previous night that the morning would once again bring illness.

"I'm...fine." Raine snapped, viscously though without intention, between chokes and gags as she emptied her stomach into the bucket. That made for the second time she'd spewed her guts that day alone, and what amount for the week all together? She'd seemed to have lost count. "Balls..." She muttered, trading in her bucket out for a glass of water.

"I'm sure it's just a virus, miss. Nothing to be too concerned about." The chambermaid assured her, trying to hide a grimace as she reluctantly took the bucket and all its repulsive elements. Raine nodded silently and slumped back down on the bed.

But _correct _was the last thing she believed the girl was in her statement.

If Raine had merely caught a virus, it would have been over shortly after it started. Two bloody weeks ago. She knew very well the symptoms she'd been experiencing were more than those of a simple virus, at least in a medical sense. Her particular virus was much more permanent, much more scandalous... and much more difficult to stomach. But, she was almost certain that it was what ailed her.

Her time to bleed had been three weeks ago. And she'd yet to see a single drop of crimson fluid from her loins. This, followed by her unexplained sickness andmoodiness lead to a frightening notion. When all added up, these factors were the makings of a virus terrible for any unmarried woman to obtain, especially if the one she had obtained it from had not been her suitor. And she was certain Elliot was not the giver of this parasite. They had not shared a bed in a few weeks when Raine had made her mistake. And in between that time, she had bled when she was meant to.

The child was Ben's alright. Raine was almost certain of it, and the possibility had her unnerved and slightly afraid. She supposed it was possible she could pass it off as Elliot's. But...how could she lie to him twice?

"Highness," The voice of her chamber maid disrupted her thoughts "If you're not to preoccupied with...other things, Mister Hobbeson is waiting for you in the treasury." She said, ignoring and perhaps predicting the groan that escaped Raine's lips.

Hobbeson. Never in her life had she seen such a sorry excuse for man. He was almost as bad as Reaver when it came to gold over morality, despite and not to mention his overbearing failed attempts to become the clone of Jasper. With a sigh she rose from her bed and smoothed the wrinkles out of her Queenly ensemble. Well, she'd better get it over with. Marching through the halls and War Room with purpose, she quickly arrived at the treasury.

"Reaver has a most intriguing proposal for you down in Bowerstone Industrial." The hobbe-like man started, "Now I know you've had your differences but it's time to put those behind you and work together." His tone sounded like some old, reprimanding schoolmaster. How was she supposed to put the fact Reaver had her nearly killed for his own entertainment? "Nobody can raise money like Reaver can, I assure you." There he went about money again. Oh, that was all the bloke ever talked about. Either that or his bloody schedule... She detested nothing more. But he was right.

With a grumble, she turned to leave the room, thankful that she was not the gold standing before her who had no means of leaving the pointy-haired dunce's presence. When the man called out after her, she did not hesitate to keep going as if he were not addressing her, so intent in her role she tried not to hear him. "I have seen to it that your appearance among the populace is well publicized so...expect a crowd!" But she had heard him loud and clear, and the outraged growl he received as she stormed out of the War Room drew an amused chuckle from his lips.

**-x-**

Raine left the castle in a hurry. She shushed Justice's barks at the crows scattered along the path, fearing that Elliot might hear and she would run into him along the way. She had yet to tell her suitor the truth about why she had not returned to the castle the night of the ball, and about the little souvenir she believed she'd gotten to mark the occasion. In fact, they'd barely spoken at all since that night.

She'd barely made it to the bridge leading to the industrial factory before she started hearing the cheers of her subjects. Sure enough, the old Hobbeson had gone out of his way to ensure she would have the entire city present. No pressure... In other more normal circumstances, the exhausting shouts would have brightened her mood, warmed her heart, and perhaps even have brought a tear to her eye. But circumstances were very different from normal at the moment, and she wanted nothing more than to lie in bed, curl up in a ball and wish away the events of that night and the being inside that had come along with them.

Alas, she was sure her people would not appreciate her leaving as they'd already caught sight of her being present. Once across the bridge, it was not a far walk to the factory yard where two familiar faces stood. Page, who she had never truly been thrilled to see, and Reaver, whose being there was much worse than Page's. "Don't tempt me, Reaver..." She heard Page's tone, eternally in a fit of pique, mutter as the Queen came upon their interaction. Raine added to herself a silent "Nor me..." Though she doubted, even if it had been said aloud, the oppressive industrialist would not oblige.

"Oh, happy day! Her majesty, the Queen of Albion, graces us with her radiant presence." Reaver was the first of the two to notice her, and did not hesitate to confirm no others disregarded her presence either, announcing her arrival with extravagant pronunciation and a dramatic rolling 'R' that had become rather trademark of him. "I knew last time we met that you would emerge victorious from such public sibling rivalry." He stated smugly, adding a meaningful shake of his fist. Her stomach twisted at the mention of Logan again, and the effects were clear on her face. As if she'd not been nauseous enough already... Still, Reaver continued once again arrogantly leaning on his cane with one hand and placing the other on his hip. "And now, here I am to assist you in feeling your coffers till they are fit to burst." He said, tapping the cane against the gravel for the purpose of making his pride in the fact more distinct. Though his tone was just as sardonic as it had always been. He was such a hard man to read...

"What better way to begin your reign than by reinstating one of my most successful policies?" He said, holding his hand out to her in question, nodding. "There is no greater waste than the idleness of our city's youth, but my employment scheme guarantees children of all ages will have something to occupy them, whilst ensuring our factories are properly manned."

"Thats...it's just monstrous!" Page seemed to explode, unable to hold back her disagreement for Reaver's proposal any longer. Though to her credit, she did well calming herself down before she began, closing hers eyes tightly while shaking her head as if to drive all of what Reaver said out of her mind. Oh, how she hated that man. "Don't listen to him. You promised you would end child labor, remember that promise now!"

"And what would you have us do with the snotty, little indigents?" Reaver replied with a ready-made retort, so fast it nearly seemed rehearsed. Raine wondered if he hadn't planned it all out. Page on the other hand simply folded her arms neath her buxom chest and shot him the fiercest glare she could manage... And she could managed quite a lot.

"The only way Bowerstone is going to climb out of the gutter is through education. Nothing is more important to our future than that." She said, moving her arm in a horizontal motion as it swept over the crowd. "Turn this factory in to a school. Give the children of this city the chance they never had."

"A school?" Reaver's emphasized echo gave no chance for Raine to interfere. "That's an original thought. Oh, if you would like to be known as a pauper monarch..." A tap of his cane again put prominence on the words. "Then by all means, listen to her. Reaver Industries will abide by your decision." He finished with a curt nod, both he and Page eagerly awaiting her decision.

Raine had never been one to break promises. And all though she'd been all but forced into making this one to Page, she wasn't about to go back on her word, especially since a supermajority of the population didn't know she'd had no say in making such a vow. "The factory will become a school." She said, eying Reaver in hopes of finding at least a hint of distaste in replace of that dreadfully agitating smirk. But there was none. In fact, his face didn't change at all...

"Thank you." Page's soft spoken gratitude caused Raine's eyes to leave Reaver for her, somewhat surprised. If the resistance leader had ever been grateful to the young Hero, she never once expressed it. "We can really start changing peoples lives now. This will be an Albion worth fighting for!" She raised her arms up in a show of victory.

Raine smiled gracefully, intent with her decision and the reaction she received for it. The crowd erupted in cheers louder than the ones they already been giving. Some of them even threw confetti into the air.

"I shall begin the necessary modifications at once..." Reaver's charismatic tone sounded once more, and she looked back to find him leering at her with a smirks, leaning slightly forward to avoid the small pieces of colored paper dispersing in the air behind him. Raine only gave him a nod, for the single purpose of letting him know she had acknowledged what he said and expected him to follow through with it.

Soon, the crowd began to die out as the people disbanded. Raine stuck a hand inside the pocket of her skirt and felt around for a crumpled piece of paper. Having snagged the item, she withdrew it from her pocket and unfolded it to reveal the words "Royal Agenda" scribbled at the top. Her elegant fingers trailed down the list till they reached the task she'd just completed, and she marked it off with a sense of victory and relief. At least their was only one more thing to take care of. Then she would be able to stay in bed for the rest of the day, or at least until her sickness subsided. By now, she was fairly confident she was going to retch again soon. Leastways, she had after all managed to get through her first ruling where Reaver stood present, and (at least in her mind) she had prevailed over his convincing nature where her brother had not.

However, just as she thought this, she sensed a presence uncomfortably close behind her. She lifted her eyes from the schedule, seeing a larger shadow stretch over the form of her own upon the ground. The dark silhouette of a tall top hat donned by an also tall man. Slightly alarmed, she whirled around to first glimpse the fur-clad lapels of his pallid coat. Shifting her gaze up to descry the ivory skin a chiseled face contrasting boldly with sculpted, black-brown hair, she found a pair of sea-green orbs watching her from a significantly closer proximity than they had been a minute before.

"A most meritorious edict, your majesty." Reaver's overtly posh tone flooded her ears. Looking around in a panic, she realized they were now the only two standing in the factory-turned-school yard. "I can practically hear the endorsements now-Welcome to Reaver Industries' Learning Center, Bowerstone Industrial's first ever school. You can now remain assured that your children can grow up to become the well-educated _automatons _you've always wanted them to be."

Reaver's face had twisted into its usual mirthful smirk, but the fact that it was strained did not escape Raine's notice. It suddenly occurred to her that whether he agreed to it or not, he was always going to at least act like he sided with her on every decisions she would make as Queen. The young monarch did not know whether to be glad about that, or to insult such a cowardly display of covering bases. With a sigh, she muttered distasteful force and false politeness, "Good Morning, Master Reaver."

As she spoke, the Queen held her head a bit higher in attempts to rid herself of the weak look sickness so cruelly gave its victims. As if the constant queasiness was not enough inwardly, it also worsened outward appearance. Her fellow Hero of course discovered it anyway, either by sensing it with instincts Heroes sensed each other with, or by the anemic expression plastered on her face. And, equally predictable, he called her out on it. "Feeling all right, my dear?" He asked, and Raine was given the slightest hunch that his tone held a small bit of knowing to it only coupled by that ever present smirk.

"I'm feeling _quite_ all right, thank you." She said, swallowing the bile that she knew was working its way up. "Is there something you wanted from me?" She asked, referring to why he hadn't dispersed with the rest of the crowd, realizing only after she spoke that the question might not have been a wise one to ask Reaver. Her suspicions were confirmed as the corners of his lips curled further up.

"Many things, my pet." He said darkly, the mere look in his eyes suggesting the unspeakable deeds that were no doubt going on behind those emerald hues. But he didn't scare her. She knew too well his words were often empty. Many of the things he said were said only to see a reaction.

Raine rolled her own caramel eyes as she turned away, filling her nausea piquing. "Please leave me alone, I am in go mood for your games today." She groaned and brought unconsciously a hand to her stomach. _Oh, bloody hell, here it comes._

As if playing on his cue, Reaver smoothly reached over to an adjacent pile of crates and snatched the wooden bucket conveniently resting atop the stack. He all but shoved it towards her and she grabbed it thankfully, but was given no time to voice her gratitude as her stomach once again emptied itself in to the bucket. Much to her relief, Reaver did not say nor do anything, only lean of his cane with his opposite hand curled smartly on the bone of his hip. Even the smirk faded for a bit, and he looked around the work yard as if bored while he waited for her to finish.

Three or for heaves later, she sat on the ground, her back hunched over the bucket coughing though she'd finished at least for now. Wiping her mouth against her glove, she caught a glance from Reaver. The smirk had wasted no time in returning to its owner as he stared her down. "_Quite_ all right, indeed..." He mused. Raine was glad for his ignorance, but little did she know his intricate mind had already started work on this. Younger Heroes especially had immune system much stronger than regular people their age, and even he in his many centuries had only been sick a handful of times. This was no small illness that ailed the Queen, he knew that much.

Raine huffed, quickly rising to her feet and setting the bucket back on the crates. "Just get started on that school, would you?" She quickly stomped off with Justice at her heel. Reaver simply stared after her, the grin on his face darker with the knowledge he possessed about the so-called benevolent Queen. She was pleased when he did not follow. But she would have taken years of his constant pestering over the information she was unaware he now had.

"Seems that night with Captain Finn was a bit more than you bargained for, my Queen..." But his observation fell on death ears as she had already made their distance too great for him to be heard.

* * *

**{A/N - Thanks again for reading, you guys :) Please leave a review and tell me what you think?}**


	3. Begin Again

**Gentle Hurtings**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Begin Again**

The next day started out as eerily similar to the first. Raine had woke feeling just as sick as the previous morning, ate just as little for breakfast, and tossed up just as much. She prayed this stage of morning illness would end soon, for she was now certain that it was in fact pregnancy that ailed her. And she meant ailed in every sense of the word. She'd requested a visit from the royal doctor the night previous, who had confirmed her fears and suspicions. Though he swore not to tell a soul, she made sure to threaten his life before he took his leave, or rather fled the castle in fear. She just could not risk this information getting out to the public, not even to Ben, and especially not to Elliot. She still had to think of a way to tell the boy. Perhaps she could convince him the child was indeed his? Oh, the very thought of that was deceitful beyond any sin. She had not been with him in at least a month, which would mean that the she would have to say the child she had now was premature in birth. Only by a month, though... Surely children had been born for sooner times.

Just like the prior day, Hobbeson required her presence in the treasury and the Queen sauntered reluctantly into the room with just as much distaste for being there. But that was where things took a very different turned. She first noticed it when Hobbeson bird-like eyes, usually lackluster and full of aversion towards the emptiness of his surroundings, now sparkled with a new hope. No doubt he had something good to tell her-well, good in his sense of the word. That would more than likely mean he was about to announce another decision had to be made, one that could potentially make the treasury a bit less...not full.

"Your majesty, you are looking well today." He said, ignoring the fact that he only received a moody growl of phony thanks in return as the young Hero slumped into one of the arm chairs against the wall. "I have some news that will no doubt bring back the brilliance to your otherwise morose demeanor." Raine had to remind herself she was not going to end up like Logan, and therefore, could not execute him simply for his words. "It would seem as though a traveller stumbled into Bowerstone late last night. Our guards found him unconscious on the path way to the castle. The man was carrying this, your grace." He said, and then proceeded to unfold a rather aged parchment. Raine made no efforts to take it from him, still not interested by the story. So Hobbeson held it up for her analysis. Only then did she realize it was a map of sorts. But this was one she had not seen the likes of before.

"Once the lad came to his senses, we managed to find that he was on his way to deliver this to Albion's Queen, but his perilous journey caused him great fatigue which explains why he did not quite make it to the castle. Of course, who could blame him?" Hobbeson continued. "He _has _travelled from beyond the Mistpeak Mountains.

"Where did he say he was from...?" Raine coughed, surprised, and curious at last. He'd finally caught hold of the Queen's attention, and considering how rare it was for him to accomplish that, he was very appreciative. That being so, he ignored her question and went straight to business.

"He claims it leads to..." Here Hobbeson paused, seemingly for a dramatic effect in which Raine only rolled her eyes at. "A treasure." He whispered, Raine blinked. A treasure? Well, she'd seen that coming, she supposed. If it were anything else but a means to make money, the stubby little valet wouldn't have thought it worth mentioning. "My Queen, I implore you to consider taking this voyage. The object of value is said to be just enough to save Albion."

Raine brought a hand up to twist a chocolate lock of hair as she normally did when in thought. It was then that she rose from her seat and took the map.

It surprised her to see just how much land covered it. The Albion map tables in her War Room and Sanctuary were only a small square on this particular map. Few had ventured to where it stretched, past the Mistpeak Mountains. "How can we be sure this is no hoax, Hobbeson? Where did the man come from, who is he, and how can we be sure he is not leading us astray. Why would he not keep the map and the treasure for himself?"

Hobbeson looked somewhat surprised, and then his face darkened in a shade of crimson, clearly ashamed that he had not though of anything she said before. Raine sighed. The man before her was becoming increasingly hard to stomach. "I suppose I'll just go have a talk with the man. Where is he? Send him to the war room."

"We've given him one of the guest rooms. I'll send for him at once, my lady." Hobbeson said eagerly, perhaps wanting to redeem himself in the eyes of his Queen. _Slim chance of that,_ Raine thought to herself.

** -x-**

Not much longer after the insufferable, little man had scurried out, there was a knock on the doors. She bid them enter, and two of her guards opened the doors for a man she had not seen and she did a quick assessment of his person. He looked quite different from any man she'd seen before. A true warrior. He was much bigger and taller than any of the citizens of Albion, even Reaver. And his skin was pale to the point of being nearly gray. He had blue eyes and long, blonde hair that appeared to not have been washed in months. With his flat facial features, weather-beaten skin, and full blonde beard, he was not a handsome man at all. But he did have the body of a warrior, with large muscles stretching against the leather of his armor, and a fur cloak around his shoulders that made him look more like a bear than a man. For that, she could admire him. One other thing she did note was the fact that he did not bow to her, nor address her as your grace or majesty. In fact, he did not address her at all. But then it seemed to register with her, this man was from beyond the mountains. He had no sovereign, and if he did then it was not her. Raine's command stretched only to the mountains.

"Leave us." She told the guards, her voice, though soft and feminine, was stern enough not to be argued with, even if the guards exchanged looks of mistrust from each other to the new visitor. But one gauntlet-clad hand rested on her pistol, and the hilt of her sword peered over her shoulder, and they were reminded that their Hero Queen was well able to protect herself. So they did as they were bid and left, closing the doors behind them. A short silence befell the room, each of the two warriors watching each other intently, before Raine spoke up. "Do you have a name?"

"Thoros." Was all he told her, and she noticed his accent was foreign to her ears. Like Reaver, he rolled his R's, but she doubted it was as much for show as when the fop did it.

"I am Raine, Queen of Albion." She nodded easily, hand still resting atop her pistol as she rotated around the map table, where the map they had found on his person was also lying. "And I hear you have quite a story to tell. Please, enlighten me about your people, and where it is you come from. Few of our men have travelled beyond the mountains."

"Aye, and few of out kind have done the same, my lady." He told her, his deep brogue echoing in the room. "I am the Clan Lord of the clan nearest to your Albion, but there are many other Clan Lords and clans spread far and wide about our region. It is a cold, fierce land very different from yours. And out people are larger and stronger than yours, but not as numerous nor as unified."

Raine nodded intently as she listened. When she was young, she'd heard tales of the men beyond the mountains. Walter would fancy her imagination with stories of how thousands and thousands of years ago, back when the Old Kingdom was still new, there was a rebellion. The king of that time banished the noble rebels to the land beyond the mountains, and the people that lived there now were their descendants. Other stories she heard were from Logan when they'd been younger. He had called them sorcerers, witches, and barbarians, who would snatch up those who travelled to close to their lands and feast on the flesh of their captives. Of course, she had always assumed that all they were was indeed only stories. Of course she new some form of like must live on the other side, but she had never any intentions of finding out. The Crown was not so ambitious as to try and conquer those cold, harsh lands.

"Thoros, you come to me with a map." She said, gesturing to the crumpled parchment on the map table. "I cannot help but wonder why you decided to come to me with it. Apparently it leads to some great treasure. Why not keep it for yourself, use the riches to feed your clansmen?"

"Each clan has a wise-woman, one who the gods permit with visions of future and of the world's fate. Often they are not visions of much significance to the entire realm, only to specific clans. But, now..." Thoros' expression grew even more serious, if that were at all possible. "My wise-woman claims to have been visited by a spirit, a guardian of fate was how she put it. The wise-woman described the spirit was in the form of a hooded woman, with eyes that seemed as hollow as the void..." Raine's heart stopped... It couldn't be. Theresa? "The message that this spirit had brought devastating news. So I called a meeting of the clans to relay the message, but they told me all their own wise-women ad received the same vision. And that, Queen Raine, is too odd to ignore. Our wise-women tell us the end of time is nigh. Know you anything about this?"

Raine nodded, somewhat shakily. "I... I know the vision, the spirit that your wise-women saw has come to me many times. Her name is Theresa. She guards the Spire, and thus the world suppose." Raine had always thought Theresa's allegiances lied solely with the greater good of Albion. But it seemed something bigger than Albion was upon them now. The Darkness would not stop at Albion... It would not stop until everything in its sight was blackened. "She helped me take my brother's throne and become Queen of Albion, she is the one that told me of my Hero blood-"

"So it's true, then?" Thoros said, something akin to hope flashing in his eyes. "You have the blood of the ancients flowing through your vein?" He asked, and Raine nodded. "Then there is hope for us. The spirit is the one that gave us that map. She possessed our wise-women to write it for us, and then she told us our only chance was to give this to one of ancient blood. We did not know all of what she meant. But one of our Clan Lords suggested that the King Lionheart of Albion had been a Hero. It has been long since we received any word from your lands, and the last we knew of any sort of Hero blood, it was when Lionheart had risen to power beyond the mountains, here in Albion as King. We had not hoped him to still be alive, but we knew of his children, and how they must carry your blood. I was frightened when I arrived in Bowerstone and learned that his eldest son has moved to the next world, but you were also of Lionheart's blood."

Raine ignored the stab of guilt that came with the mention of Logan's death was more, and swallowed her bitterness down. "Yes, I am a Hero. The blood of my father flows through my veins as it did not flow through my brother's."

"Then that is quite a relief." Thoros said calmly. "I do not know why the hooded spirit asked for a Hero's blood. I only know that my purpose in this has been fulfilled. Though now I fear the next step may not be clear for us..."

"Fear not, Thoros. I am sure I will be receiving a visit from our hooded friend soon as well." Raine assured him. Yet she did think it odd Theresa had not come to her first. "I vow to do everything in my power to reach the end of this map and retrieve whatever awaits me there to deliver this world from the Darkness."

"Then we are saved, for a Hero's power knows no bounds." Thoros said, and the resolved look upon his face gave her a sense of pride and assurance. He bowed now, respectfully to her. "Should you pass through my lands on your journey, you will be welcomed there. I only regret my hand cannot be extended further to help you."

"You've done enough as it is, Thoros. I thank you for your bravery in coming here. Go now, and return to your people. Tell them they have nothing to fear." Raine reached her hand towards him, and placed it on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. He nodded sharply before turning to leave.

She stared at the door for what seemed like a long while after he was gone, collect her thoughts, and waiting. For what, she did not know. For Theresa to appear? No, that was not how the old hag worked. She liked to appear when one least expected it. But it seemed now, the road was before her again. Only this time, a castle was not at its end. This time, the fate of the world would rest solely on her shoulders.

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**{A/N - Thanks for reading, everyone :) If any of you are into Elder Scrolls games, I totally based the character of Thoros on a typical Nord and the land where he's from is also based on the snowy Skyrim province. ^_^ Hehe, I'm such a nerd… Well, I am pleased by those of you who favorited or followed my story, but please let me know how you like it (or if you _don't _like it o:) in a review. It will be much appreciated! Also I'd like to thank TheDarkSorceress for leaving the first review! You rock. Okay, bye.}**


	4. Better Than One

**Gentle Hurtings**

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**Chapter 4 - Better Than One**

The day of departure was set for the first day of next week, giving her three days to prepare. This was Hobbeson's doing, of course. If it had been up to Raine, she would have taken off the moment she spoke with Thoros. Hobbeson did not understand this, and so Raine guessed he couldn't fully blame him. Most people did appreciate time to prepare, after all. And in the end, she was grateful of this time, for it was all the time a blind seeress needed to get a fair warning out.

Two days before she was set to leave, Raine stood with annoyance written clear on her face before a spiraling vortex of white light that had become all too familiar for the young Hero over the past year. She had hoped she wouldn't need to return to the cold nothingness of the Spire until the day the Darkness' attack. But rarely was she ever granted an answer to those prayers involving Theresa. With this mentality, she stepped into the light, and it engulf her being once more. The long, hooded form of Theresa was before her in seconds, hands held together eternally in front of her.

"Nice of you to finally show up." Raine said with a bitter tone that Theresa was no doubt accustomed to by now. But the old Spire-keeper had a lot of explaining to do, and Raine had many questions. "Why didn't you come to me first, instead of sending Thoros over the mountains to deliver a map you could have just given me yourself?"

"I do only what is asked of me. Fate would have you know a bit about the land before you go tumbling into it. So it sent Thoros, so that you might know the people and the conditions of the land where you are going, and also to give you allies along the way. You will be welcome at each of the clans he spoke about." She said. Raine kept silent, not wanting to admit it had been a logical move that worked out for the better after all.

"You are doing a brave thing, young Hero." She said, and the Queen prepared to listen-or not-to a speech she really believed would not matter. "Seeking this treasure will no doubt save most of Albion, but it will not come without great cost to you. The path that lies before you is heavy with dangers and hardships, things only a Hero could hope to overcome. But I have been permitted to glimpse into the future of your voyage..."

"What does the future say? What will I find when I've reached the end?" Raine asked quickly, though she wasn't sure why. Theresa had never given her the specifics before.

Though the Queen could not see Theresa's face, she knew Theresa gave her a stern look. She often did so when Raine interrupted. "At the end, you will find what you need to save your people. But I must tell you: one Hero alone cannot carry out this task. Two must travel and work together if you are to be successful."

That didn't sit too well with Raine. "But I don't know any other Heroes!" She spoke up in protest, even as Theresa was slowly beginning to fade. Theresa, of course, had Hero blood. But she would never leave her precious spire. The only other person she knew of who _might_ have had a bit of Hero blood would have been her older brother, and he was dead now. _I saw to that weeks ago_, she thought bitterly, guilt creeping up her chest to grip her heart once more.

"Think as your father would, Hero." Theresa's words echoed. The ever-mysterious woman faded into the light, elusive as smoke, and Raine was suddenly standing in the empty confines of her bedroom once again.

Great. How many people did she know who were willing to risk life and limb for a large amount of gold, and who was a Hero as well? _Who, indeed_, she thought, laughing at her own initial stupidity. Reaver, of course. He was a Hero, too. Not just any Hero. He'd helped her father on his quest all those years ago as well. Perhaps he was in the mood for another one?

To go on a perilous journey with the devil himself. Hm, it definitely sounded interesting if not a bit suicidal, not a task Raine had ever dreamed she would have to, much less _want _to, take on. She didn't know much about his darker side other than rumors, having not been exposed much to him during her time in the castle by order of the King, both Sparrow and Logan after him. Certainly, there was that time when he had tried to kill her and Page for his own entertainment that proved him to be well past the point of unstable. But then again, he hadn't actually known who she was then. He had been dealing with a traitorous rebel at that point, not Raine. In all her memories of him, which were not very many at all, he was at least somewhat reverent to her. He had by no means ever been kind, actually he was a bit patronizing, especially when she was younger. He behaved similarly now, but as though he had a tad more respect for her. Whether the reason for that being that she was the Queen now or that a fellow Hero, Raine could never tell. All she knew was that her father had thought it unsuitable for her to be in the fop's presence for any extended amount of time, and never on her own. That law had dwindled somewhat after Sparrow's death. And it would be lying to say the Machiavellian pirate turned amoral businessman hadn't grasped her curiosity even as a young child.

When asked about the man called Reaver, King Sparrow's dark brow would simply furrow, "You must never allow him to blandish you, young Raine." She'd been scarcely over the age of three, yet she still remembered the numbing coldness of her father's tone and the forbidding look in his eyes. "And you must never allow yourself to succumb."

Raine had but nodded her head and kept quiet about it from then on out. She hadn't understood half the words the wise King had told her, but she was almost sure he meant for her to keep her distance from the man. After the death of said King, his surviving Queen had shared more details on the mysterious unprincipled figure, saying he was vile and of the lowest of men. The younger Raine never quite grasped this, for in her innocent eyes he seemed pretty high up among other men. Her misconception was little more than proof her parents had gone before she was ready for them to leave, and so she never received a full explanation. Walter, Jasper and even Logan had done their best to rid any spirit of inquiry Raine still held and in many ways they succeeded. But, oh what a naive girl she was even now. There was an odd desire still harboring deep within that suggested she would have liked to know Reaver more than she did now. Not reach friendly terms with him by any means, but at least unlock some of the mysteries he posed. Being her impulsive self, this desire was enough to make up her mind against better judgement and resolve to give this proposition to Reaver. She had a feeling, if money were involved, he would not hesitate to accept.

**-x-**

The trip from Millfields to Bowerstone was not much more than a short hour's ride by carriage. But whether he'd experienced trouble along the way, or simply wished to irritate the Queen with his fashionable tardiness, it was at least five hours from the time Reaver had been expected to arrive that he actually showed up at the castle. Raine was already waiting for him in the War Room. She'd resorted to reading a book of utterly tragic poetry in her state of boredom.

"Majesty," Hobbeson addressed her as he walked in, breaking her from contemplating thoughts of trying to unscramble the versification without success. Raine could tell what he was going to say simply by the awestruck look on his face. His superstar had definitely arrived. "Master Reaver is here, as you requested."

Raine nodded, "Thank you, Hobbeson. Please, show him in." She said, though she had a feeling Reaver was about to show himself in anyway.

"Ah, my Queen!" Without further dithering, the man himself waltzed into the room not a second later. "You're looking ravishing as ever." That permanent smirk was still etched in his features as he strolled across the room to where she stood while Hobbeson left them. Raine cursed the little steward as he saw it fit to close the door behind him. She realized now that this was the first time in her adult life that she had ever been truly alone in a secluded room with the man they call Reaver.

"And how is your majesty this fine day?" Reaver's voice echoed throughout the room as he bowed, and she suddenly felt the warm touch of his slender, gloved fingers as they grasped around her hand. A perhaps too tender kiss was placed upon her knuckles with lips softer than imaginable. Her eyes somewhat widened in shock as she had only received this kind of greeting a few times in her life... In fact, of those few times, a majority of them had indeed been from the same man that stood before her, though that seemed so many years ago. "My sincerest apologies for making you wait. But, as I'm sure you know, I'm a very busy man." His smirk all but widened as he winked, and Raine knew instantly what he meant by 'busy'. She closed her eyes tight and shook her head to rid the unseemly images that he purposefully implanted into her mind. He sneered at the reaction.

"Never mind that. I suppose I'll just have to be grateful for the little time you _do _allot your Queen." Her shallow reply elicited a chuckle from her company, but it was lost to her ears as she was far too busy contemplating how to begin the conversation. It was odd how she'd had an entire speech planned out in her head, but could not think of what to say for the life of her now. Clearing her throat, she decided she could do little more than wing it.

"Reaver, I asked for your audience because this time _I _have a proposition for _you_." She began, noting how his sculpted brow rose slowly with intrigue. She had his attention now.

"I'm listening." Came his confirming reply.

"Well, Master Reaver... In less than one year, Albion will fall under the most devastating attack it has ever experienced." She began broodingly, her fingers tracing lightly over the edges of the circular table map. Out of the corner of her vision, she glanced Reaver take a seat in a chair beside the unlit hearth, both of his palms folded elegantly on top of each other to repose on his cane as he leaned forward in the chair, chin resting atop his folded hands as well. "And the kingdom is in dire need of resources."

Here Reaver cut her off, his demeanor taking on an almost defensive front. "Oh, I am well aware of that, my Queen. And I do believe I've provided you with adequate means to obtain said resources. However, it would seem as though you need to get a few priorities straight." The Queen turned to face him fully now, a somewhat surprised look appearing in her widened eyes as she pondered his rather uncharacteristic guarding of himself. Just like that though, the defensive look was gone and replaced by that grating charm. "Carry on..."

Ignoring his outspokenness, Raine did as he asked and continued with a clearing of her throat. "As I was saying, Albion needs money to prepare for this attack. Against the darkness, we cannot prevail otherwise. But at the same time, we need the people on our side, so we cannot force them into tyranny as Logan did or else we risk-"

"Your majesty" Reaver interrupted, lifting his head slightly, "With all respect intended, really, you have not mentioned anything I do not already know." He said, his smirk fading to allow a bored sigh from his lips. "Do hurry on to the good part, won't you?" He said, waving his hand slightly in dismissal.

"Fine..." Raine sighed, doing her best to remain reasonable and continued walking in her slow, clockwise gait around the map table. "There is a treasure, Master Reaver, that is to be found far beyond the mountains of Mistpeak, far past the outskirts of Albion, even. It is estimated that this treasure is worth far more money than we need to save nearly the entire kingdom." She paused here, turning to face him again in hopes of gauging his reaction, only to find that aside from the natural smirk it was otherwise unchanged. "I intend to go after it."

There was a short pause that seemed to stretch on for minutes, Reaver looking at her expectantly as if he assumed she would continue, and Raine awaiting his own contribution. Finally, one of them did speak up. "So, why are you still here? Go on, chop chop. You are the queen, my sweet, you need no one's permission to act upon anything. Not even my own... Unless of course you are asking for it, then by all means, go right ahead."

She shot him a glance that betrayed her annoyance, shaking her head before softening her eyes until they held a knowing expression. "I assume you recall a woman named Theresa." She stated. Then it was her time to smirk, mostly at her company's bitter reaction to the name. His lips twisted down this time, his sculpted brows knotted together and his face wrinkled slightly to distort the heart marked on his face.

"Charming little creature..." He said, his tone dripping with an acidic sarcasm. Raine wondered just what reason he had for disliking her. But in the end, she noted how neither of them had the most agreeable natures. In point of fact, they were both stubborn as mules; immortal mules, that is.

"Indeed..." Raine chimed in as she noticed Reaver's eyes growing distant. They seemed to be looking at something far beyond the walls of this castle, and she wondered if it was an experience with their mutual acquaintance, the blind seeress, that he was looking back on. "Well, she came to me earlier this day and told me something about the trip I am about to embark on."

He managed to return to the present enough to nod his understanding to her. "And what's that..." His tone, however, was still distant and so the question in it had been lost. It made Raine hesitate, but only for a moment.

"She told me that the quest can only be completed by two Heroes. Not just one..." Raine watched him rise from the seat cautiously with one eyebrow elevated in interest, showing that she had his attention once more.

She sighed figuring their was no possible way to subtly allude to something like asking help from a man like this. "Reaver, I know no other Heroes apart from yourself. I...can't do it without you." She said, lowering her gaze to the floor where they caught the dull gleam of his black boots. And at the silence that settled over them momentarily, she looked up again. He'd adopted a very satisfied, very smug grin, and a knowing twinkle in his eye. She jutted one hip out defiantly, and placed her hands on both as her face hardened sternly. "_Why_ are you looking at me like that?"

"You need my help, is that it?" His answer was quick and planned, and she was mad at herself for allowed him the complacency.

After a moment of reluctance she nodded, though not without a roll of her eyes. "I do..." Reaver was quite clearly enjoying the conversation now and the weight of obligation he would hold over her head if he did indeed accept. In Reaver's world, there were no random acts of kindness, the other still resting casually on the knob of his cane. If he did anything for anyone, it was because he expected to get his own gain out of it in the end.

"Hm, interesting..." He said, a gloved hand coming to rub thoughtfully at his chin as he turned and took several casual steps away, cane tapping lightly against the crimson carpet as he cast his gaze out a window.

"So, will you do it or not?" She asked, her tone accented with a spark of impatience in her eyes.

"Perhaps... Certainly, I will have to sleep on it." He said, sounding far too rehearsed in his tone. "Then again, I don't see any reason why I should go on this voyage with you. Don't get me wrong, my dear Queen, you're presence is always very _stimulating_. But why risk life and limb for some rumored treasure when there are perfectly suitable ways of gathering money in the very comfort of my home. Might I suggest-?"

"I am NOTgoing to become a tyrant, Reaver! Your 'suggestions' leave me no choice but to become one!" Her shout was louder than intended as it bounced off the walls, but Reaver was only more amused by it. He awaited with almost bated breath for her to unleashed more of whatever wrath he had elicited, which always so entertaining. However, it never came.

Instead, the rage in her comely features faded and adopted a much more forlorn and defeated look. She hung her head so that he was unable to see the chocolate hue of her eyes. "Reaver, _please_." She practically whispered. "Albion needs us. She's been your home longer than anyone's. Are you really just going to stand by and watch as this...this _thing _overtakes her? Hasn't darkness consumed enough of what you love?" Raine winced just after she'd spoken. She hadn't quite meant to throw that last part in there, but she could not take it back now. And why should she have any regard for speaking out of turn with this man? He clearly didn't have any in return.

It was always strange to see Reaver take on any expression other than arrogance, boredom, or disgust. But now, there seemed to be no emotion at all. His smirk had been wiped away, and his eyes had lost their smug luster, and he just stared at her for a moment. But when she glanced down at his hands, she found the one clutching his cane was gripping it so tightly she could almost see it shaking.

"Albion has not been my home in a long time..." His tone was so low, Raine couldn't tell if it was seething with contained rage or overwhelmed by immense sadness. He turned from her then, crossing the room again to stare out one of the windows, and she was glad he put some distance between her now. But after a few beats of silence, he turned to her again. This time the anger and maliciousness was apparent in his eyes and tone "Are you so certain you should be galavanting after such tittle-tattled fortune, after all? Especially in your..._delicate _condition..." His words were cold and biting. He dropped his gaze to her abdomen, lingering there for only a second, but long enough for the Queen to catch his meaning.

Her jaw nearly hit the floor and her eyes widened to nearly the size of the clenched fists that hung shaking by her sides. Reaver, who had forgotten her words at him now in the wake of her reaction, nearly doubled over with laughter, barely managing to keep his cool composure with little more than a smooth chuckle.

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**{A/N - I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to review, favorite, or follow my story :) It means a lot! I hope you are all enjoying it so far.)**


	5. Babies and Businessmen

**Gentle Hurtings**

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**Chapter 5 - Babies and Businessmen**

"Who...Who told you...?" Her voice was weaker than she'd ever heard it before, and sounded as though it didn't even belong to her anymore

Raine had heard the stories of the man who'd murdered millions. The man who had single-handedly acted as the gateway between death and an entire village, everyone he knew, those he loved most. She had seen the children, starved, working like animals in his factories. She had watched as he mercilessly shot helpless people, without so much as blinking. By his order, she had fought hobbes, mercenaries, hollow men, and even Sand Furies in the halls of his mansion. She'd stained the tile of his ballroom with the blood of his balverine army, and seen first hand the way he could deflect bullets with a mere swipe of his cane. But through all of that, until this very moment, Raine had never feared the actions of the man before her more than she did now.

"Reaver..._Who_ told you?" She repeated cautiously, that fear very present in her eyes when he responded with only a cocky smile.

How? How could he have possibly known she was carrying a child? No one in the entire kingdom knew save her and the one doctor who had examined her. Was it possible that he would've told Reaver? Or was she growing bigger, now? Had it become obvious? She didn't know anything about pregnancy, when she would stop vomiting or when she would be fat with child. But it seemed that by whatever reasons, Reaver was certainly aware she had a life growing inside her womb.

"I have my ways, your majesty." He said, an odd beguiling tone to is voice, complimenting his fox-like smile perfectly. "Ah, let's see. Who could the lucky, or not so lucky, man be? I'm inclined to say it's that unimpeachable little boy, you know, the only one who follows you around more than that dog of yours. What _is _his name? Edmund...Elroy...? No..."

"Elliot..." Raine's seething voice came out in a strained murmur as she resisted the urge to slap this haughty fop across his smug little face. But maybe there was hope, maybe he truly did think Elliot was the father. If so, then she didn't need to worry. She hadn't told Elliot yet, but so long as she could convince everyone the child was his, there would be no scandal. Save for the child being born out of wedlock, but that was hardly a scandal at all compared to having another man's child!

"Ah, Elliot, of course!" Reaver exclaimed, though his next sentence brought that ray of hope in Raine's heart crashing down into her stomach. "However, I also must assume that unless it was conceived scandalously, you would have already told someone. And let's be honest, if someone knew about it, it would have undoubtedly been extended to _me _in no time. But no, I had to figure this _delicious _transgression out on my own. Which, I grant you, was not difficult for such a brilliant mind." He said, talking to Raine as if she still had the ability to speak when clearly she did not. Shrugging with a pensive frown, he continued. "Well, who does that leave then? You hardly strike me as a girl who'd sleep with a common servant. Oh no, your self-worth wouldn't allow it... Maybe you're more susceptible to older men, then? Sir Walter's, is it? Well, it may even be your late brother's, not an unattractive man, and of course one must consider what happened before the execution...-" Reaver snorted clearly amused at Raine's humiliation, and the way in which the shade of her face proved it.

"How dare you..." Raine was ready to rage, but nothing more came out.

Reaver's face twisted in that vile smirk once again and his tone was hardly a question at all, but a well-informed statement. "Or perhaps it could even belong to a certain..._Captain_?"

Raine could hardly believe it. Reaver's self-named brilliant mind, although she hated to admit it, was just brilliant enough for him to figure out she was pregnant. But when it came to the child's father? There were far too many eligible men in Albion, and he'd narrowed the choices down to one. The right one. "You _do_ spend a lot of time around soldiers, little Raine."

She felt her lips tighten into one thin line, worry lines revealing themselves on her forehead. Her stomach began to do flips, and her throat ran dry, making it a great struggle to breath. How on earth was it possible for him to have so much information on an aspect of her life that was the most secretive of all. "H...How?" She could only stammer out the words as if she was dying after being stabbed through the heart.

"Oh, really, your highness..." Reaver shook his head at her ignorance. "Is it truly so absurd that I know? If the Queen falls suddenly 'ill' less than a month after stumbling like some drunken whore into Captain Finn's shack of a home and begins to share _carnal_ knowledge with him before the door is even shut, it becomes almost too easy to determine that she has been.._._shall we say, successfully_ inseminated_."

He had seen them! Of course he had, that was it. And Raine certainly would never dare put it past Reaver to sell her secret to the public for whatever gold it got him. Walking on eggshells to the chair he'd just been in, she sunk down into it and buried her face in her hands. "What have I done...?" She groaned.

"Failed to use a condom; that, your majesty, is what." Reaver offered, grinning at the scowl he was given.

"What will it take, Reaver?" Raine said after a pause and glowered back up at him. "What do I have to do to get you to keep your mouth shut about all this?"

The industrialist brought a hand up to stroke at his sharp chin and surveyed his choices now, knowing she'd likely do anything..._anything_ just to hear him say he wouldn't tell a soul. Oh, but bargains were no fun as long as he had to hold up his end. Then again, he might be able to work something out...

Sighing, he sat down again, this time on the chair opposite from hers, setting his cane to rest against the table beside him. "My dear," He began in a tone lower than usual, leaning in his seat to become closer to hers. "If I was going to spread this dirty little _secret_ of yours, I would have already done so." He said, something that could've been mistaken as sympathy sounding evident in his voice. She brought her eyes up to his, noting the flickers of sincerity, however small, dancing across the vast plain of emptiness that was usually gleaming in his eyes. For a moment, there was a tangible tenderness in the air between them. Perhaps too tangible, in Reaver's opinion.

He pulled away from her, breaking eye contact immediately as he began to feel the sentiment. "I want fifty percent." He stated without paused, leaning back into the seat casually.

The oddly brusque and unequivocal way in which he said it made Raine blink in slight surprise. "W-what?" She asked, confusion buzzing in her mind and in her voice as well.

He sighed, a long and drawn out breath escaping his lips. He truly hated repeating himself... "The treasure. Whatever we obtain, it's only fair I receive half of whatever we find. It's strictly good business, your majesty." He said, his shoulder lifting in a laid-back shrug.

The corner of Raine's mouth twitched upwards as she realized that he had just accepted to going on this quest with her as well as to keep her secret. But that feeling was short lived as the weight of his statement was forced on her, and she glared angrily back at him.

"_Fifty!?"_ She sharpened her tone, anger at his self-indulgence flaring up in her chest to stain her cheeks with a thin hue of pink. "Reaver, that's insane. Do you honestly think_ I'm _going to be acting for myself with my share? No, of course not! I'm giving it all to the kingdom, of course! And by kingdom, that includes you as well, sir! I will give you ten percent and that's my final answer."

"Is it?" Reaver's smile went from egomaniacal to having a great sense of mischief. "Forty-five, then."

"Twenty." Raine's reply came a little too soon, which gave the impression she would compromise. But Reaver seemed to contemplate it for at least a few seconds before making a face that signaled to her he wouldn't back down so easily.

"Forty."

"Your fortunate I give you anything at all!"

"Sounds a bit tyrannical, doesn't it?"

Raine sighed. At this point, it wouldn't matter whether he agreed to help her or not so long as they could not reach an agreement."Twenty-five, and I'll…" There was another sigh of defeat as she brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I'll let you put in your brothel." She muttered defeatedly and sunk down deeper in the chair, looking every bit the thwarted child.

Reaver on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear and could not be happier. "Done." He answered quickly, offering her his hand. She took it with a breath of relief that they had closed the case so quickly. "Trust me, my Queen, you will find a brothel pays for itself in no time. You won't regret your decision."

"I doubt that… " She muttered under her breath. "We leave tomorrow at dawn, this time don't be late. And mind you, Reaver, you're not getting the orphanage for your whorehouse. Any place I sign off on will be as close to Industrial's outskirts as possible." She said, feeling rather disappointed when the thrill in his eyes did not subside. With an irate roll, her own stared out the window, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing the conquered look in them.

"Very well, my dear, I'll take what I can get." Reaver said, though he had every intention to debate the topic at a later date in the throne room. Now was simply not the time. "Shall we seal in blood?" Reaver quipped, "...Or perhaps something a little more endearing?"

In her state of annoyance with him, she hadn't realized that he was still holding her hand in his his own gloved palm from where they had shook on the agreement. Suddenly, she felt his soft lips brush against her hand again, though this time there was something much more substantial than those already tender kisses he would give her in greetings or farewells.

Any spite she still held for him discovering her secret dissolved into pleasant wonderment in the gesture, which would have been very winsome had he not possessed an ulterior motive behind every little action. Her doe-eyed gaze darted to their conjoined hands before finally finding his chocolate hues again. They seemed to be looking past her own eyes at something much deeper in her, and it would be a lie to say that was not slightly unnerving. "Until the morrow breaks, your majesty." He spoke, his breath caressing her knuckles as he did so.

As instantly as his warmth had engulfed her hand, it had gone and her palm was left mourning the loss. She was greatly confused by everything that had just happened in this one short visit. In her thoughts, she almost did not hear the unmistakable goodbye called over his shoulder as he took his leave.

"Tatty-bye!"

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**{A/N - Again, I appreciate everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, or even read more than one chapter of this story ^_^ }**


	6. Hearts Are Breakable

**Gentle Hurtings**

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**Chapter 6 - Hearts Are Breakable**

The room was dark and red and warm. That was as Reaver liked it. He sat at the desk, an empty wine bottle lying on its side before him, a glass still full of a few swallows of the crimson liquid. But he'd abandoned it for not, his hands were caressing something much more intoxicating. The gun in his hands was beautiful, he'd never seen anything so beautiful. Even for as long as he'd had it, the Dragonstomper still took his breath away with every glance. He sighed now, exhausted though he could no sleep at all, and leaned back in his seat, legs spread out before him.

His black hair was tousled, and his clothes were wrinkled. He wore only a black pair of breeches tucked unceremoniously into his black boots, and a white shirt unbuttoned so that the pale skin of his chest was visible. Yet, the bedding seemed not to be disturbed. Well, Reaver was in no mood for a leisurely jaunt between the sheets. Memories had been stirred up. Foul memories of a man that had once been, a man that was no more. So tonight, he'd brought his whores down the secret passageway - less of a secret these days - and took his pleasure in much more obscene ways. Even that hadn't done much to distract him properly. So he'd sent them, bruised and bleeding, back to stagger in the squalor of Old Town while he retreated to comfort at the bottom of the wine bottle.

_Hasn't darkness consumed enough of what you love? _Damn her, that bloody Queen. It was easy to forget for a while, easy to shrug off the nightmares. Few people knew about it, so few people brought it up. Come to think of it, how did she even know... Well, Sparrow knew. That was reason enough.

His right hand held the gun with delicacy surprising in a murderous monster like him, his index finger wrapped around the trigger almost protectively. His other hand came up to stroke the barrel of the gun as it were a long-lost lover. And perhaps, he wished it was. But she was gone now...

Angrily, pathetically, he wiped at his eyes and the wetness that was beginning to form their. It wasn't _his_ fault, he argued with himself. It wasn't _Reaver's _fault... _Reaver_ didn't even know the man who'd done it. That man was so long ago, that man was gone and so far away now, that he only rose up again on nights like this.

_Demon...Murderer...! _He heard their haunting voices scream, like the banshees that roamed the place their home had become. He recognized every shriek, every shout, every voice, and hers was the strongest, loudest among them. _Useless scum, Monster, Murderer... Worthless filth, Vile wretch, Murderer... Devil, Thief, Pirate, Murderer...Murderer, Murderer, Murderer...! _

There was a coldness at his forehead, the press of something metallic against his crown, against the sweat that trickled down his feverish temple. How many times had he found himself in this position? With the coldness of a gun pressed to his head, and the shrieking of his past deafening his ears... So many time, so many sleepless, wearisome night. His fingers itched to pull the trigger. What would happen if he did? Nothing? Everything? Would the voices leave, would he be finally at peace? He had never tried. And deep inside he knew he never would. He was a coward, so afraid of death that it had consumed him, and continued to consume him for centuries and centuries.

With a shaking sigh, he placed the Dragonstomper on the desk once more... Damn that Queen... He had known all along she would become something greater than her father's second heir. When he'd first laid eyes upon her, he knew the Hero-blood was strong, and that one day she would put it to use. And now here she was, preparing to save Albion. With him, of all people. The shining hero in blue and white, next to the monstrous murderer shrouded in smoke and blood.

He could still remember well the first time he'd met the girl. King Sparrow had never allowed Reaver contact with her, but that did not stop him seeking the curious little lady. She'd been so young during their first exchange, three years old perhaps, looking to him with doe eyes and a young little collie bounding after her heals, head tilted curious as she said the first words she would ever say to him.

"What happened to your leg?" She'd asked. "Did you hurt it?"

Reaver looked up from where his head had been resting against his fist. He sat on a bench in the hallway, waiting for an audience with the aging king. And just by happenstance, the child had come hobbling along his path, not unattended, however. A thirteen-year-old Logan was with her, shy as he hid behind his dark hair and apologized for his sister's inquiry.

A puzzled expression overcame Reaver's features as he glanced down at his legs. "No..." His answer strangely devoid of any emotion other than suspicion.

The lower of her rosebud lips protruded in a pout born of confusion. "Then why do you have a cane." Her eyes slid to the side of him. Realization dawned upon him as he became aware of the fact that his impatient fingers, which had been drumming against the cane's shiny, spherical top, were probably what had caught her notice in the first place.

"Ah, this." Reaver said, the arrogant tone of his voice was back now. "This is not a cane, dear girl. It is a stick for whacking naughty children." He said, a wicked grin crossing his features, one that made Logan shift uneasily. He'd had the full intent and purpose of scaring her, so it surprised him when she did little more than lower her heavy-lashed eyelids out of both disbelief and boredom. Reaver, astonished that _he_ had managed to bore anyone, especially a child, a female one at that, stopped himself from having another attempt at engaging her. However, it should have been noted that the smirk on his face completely vanished.

She promptly turned back to Logan without so much as a second thought to the man or his cane. "I'm going outside." Was the only farewell either of them received before she bounded away in the direction of the gardens, young pup yipping along after her and leaving a quiet and awkward brother in her wake. Reaver lost interest. He'd met the boy before, and the shy child instilled no feelings of greatness in anyone. It was almost disappointing to know he'd be the king one day

Reaver allowed himself one mockingly refreshed sigh, "Such a charming little girl, really..." He stated sarcastically, frowning as he noted Logan would not meet his eye.

"I apologize for her outspokenness, Master Reaver. Good day." Said the boy before he too ran off to follow his sister. Who would have thought their relationship would end in such _public sibling rivalry_...

Several months later, King Sparrow had died. His Queen became the sovereign ruler, but four years went by and she too passed, giving the throne to Logan and leaving the young princess motherless from such a tender age. But the lack of feminine care must've been could for her, for Raine had risen up far beyond her standard. Queen of Albion was going to make him Savior of the World by her side. Perhaps it would do him good to help defeat the darkness rather than sign on with it. Perhaps it would lift some burden. Or that was just the only hope Reaver had, the only reason he'd truly agreed to help.

**-x-**

When Raine awoke the next day, she was surprised at how calm she felt. Today she would embark on nothing but a horse's back for a hazardous journey fraught with dangers; bandits, hobbes, hollowmen, balverines... And devils. Handsome devils, admittedly, but devils nonetheless. And on top of that, she actually neededthis rake of a man to accomplish her journey. Then there was the fact she'd agreed to legalize prostitution just so he would come. And on top of things, she was pregnant with Ben Finn's bastard. So, yes; she should have felt far more distressed than she did now.

But she was astonishingly _not_ worried. It was _Reaver_, a man who'd scare the light out of any normal and sane person he passed. But she wasn't worried about him, and the worry about not worrying pestered her worse than she believed initially worrying about it would! Things weren't even making sense anymore.

Her thoughts were clouded as she sat upon the bed gazing mindlessly off into nothingness. Several maids danced around her as they finished packing for her trip. She'd insisted on helping, there were only a few things they needed to pack after all, but she ended up getting lost in her own thoughts. She hadn't heard her elderly chambermaid inform her they had finished and almost didn't hear Hobbeson enter the room. At least, not until his announcement reached her ears.

"It's getting late, your majesty, and Reaver has arrived. Perhaps you should be off now?"

An already exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she hoisted herself from the bed she'd sunken into. With a tread across the room and a gaze out the window, she saw in the courtyard a small going away party had arranged itself spontaneously. Reaver's carriage was their, along with the horse he would be taking with on their travels. Of course he would have chosen the whitest, most regal looking horse he owned to tread across Albion. She wondered if she could persuade him to switch his out for one that was a little...less noticeable, but decided against it. To do so would prove to be utterly useless, and probably be taken as an invitation to further annoy her.

Soon, her ivory-toned hand was sliding down the gray stone of the staircase in the courtyard, and she was without any memory of getting there. As she descended the stairs, she glanced at Reaver who had just stepped off the carriage and took in the sight of him, realizing she had yet to see him in any state other than the professional-looking businessman. Now, he looked more like one of the rugged explorer types while miraculously managing to keep that rich flamboyant air he seemed to take so much pride in. She had thought him to be the sort who wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than the finest garments. But here he was before her, dressed in a white peasants shirt and gray waistcoat with black trousers tucked into matching leather boots. Other than his rather unique hairstyle and the heart tattoo on his face which were definable characteristics everyone knew about Reaver, he wouldn't have stood out in a crowd of middle class citizens. He'd even lost his cane and top hat for the occasion. Only a few things seemed remotely out of place. First was the long crimson cape held to his back by a golden chain that looked particularly expensive. Then there was the the two large belts he had buckled around his waist or strapped from his shoulder to the opposite hip, and the weapons looped or holstered on to each.

She herself also wore rather mundane garb, nothing less than what a mercenary might wear. Reaver smirked as he raked his eye over her perfectly feminine frame, a gesture Raine was all too aware of. Apparently as she regarded him, he too was regarding her.

"Good evening, you highness!" He exlaimed in his usual, over-exaggerated tone. It seemed cheerful, despite the dark circles she noticed had formed beneath his eyes. Something had kept him from his sleep, and she hoped she wouldn't pay for that in the end should his mood turn sour. "You're looking particularly _lovely _tonight." One thing was certain; this would either be a very long or very short journey.

Raine's eyes followed him as he dropped himself into a low, dramatized bow. "Good evening, Master Reaver." She said, the slighting quite clear in her tone as she bent her knees in a curtsy much more modest than his own bow had been. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but whether he had been about to or not, she wouldn't know. She'd already left him to visit the line of people that had assembled voluntarily beside them. Among them were Walter, who she approached first. "You'll see to it that everything's taken care of in my stead?"

"Consider it done." The old knight nodded, answering in the way she knew he would, but she caught the glimmer of suspicion in his eyes as they scanned over Reaver who seemed to care less about their conversing and had taken to fumbling with the chain that held the cape on his shoulders. "You watch yourself out there." He stated, but Raine caught his meaning.

She beamed up at her mentor. "Don't worry, Walter. I'll keep him on a tight leash."

Walter arched one of his wooly brows. "That's what I'm afraid of."

With a light giggle at his seemingly useless concern, she passed him and went onto her generals who had come to see her off and ensure the Kingdom's affairs would be kept in check and the coming battle prepared for by the best ability. Sabine, Page, and Kalin each gave her a few inspiring words and assured her Albion would be safe in her absence. But then she reached Ben, who let her pass by with no more than a simple nod and a "good luck, majesty". Although they'd reached the decision to discard their previous fornication, the amount of tension between them had been rather undeniable. No one else had seemed to notice this yet, but a glance over her shoulder to Reaver revealed he was smirking with the newly obtained knowledge.

She huffed, and forced her attentions to the last man she had yet to bid adieu. Elliot. He stood there in his boyish charm, his features looking quite cherubic and innocent next to the course and battle-scarred exteriors of the people around him. He did not offer her a warm grin as she came to stand in front of him, his shortness coming out quite plainly next to her tall frame. She turned the corners of her lips up in a small smile. "Everything will be alright, Elliot." She said, sensing his worry. Even though she'd been all around Albion, Aurora, and sometimes it seemed to hell and back, he did not like the idea of her leaving for a place so distant.

"You will come back, won't you?" He asked innocently, almost as if it were a boy to his mother, and not the two lovers that they were.

"Of course, I will come back." She chortled quietly at his dimness. "I still have a Kingdom to run. And besides, you're here."

"...Yes...I always will be." He sighed, and chewed on the inside of his cheek, clearly contemplating something before speaking. "I love you."

"And I you." She smiled, and leant down to kiss his lips. The others looked away out of politeness, but a barely audible snort could be heard from Reaver. "I'll be alright."

"I know you will..." He said, defeat gleaming in his eyes. "But before you leave, I wanted to ask if you would be willing to do something upon your return."

"Of course... What is it?" She asked. He sighed again, heavier still. Raine's jaw dropped to the floor as did his knee, and her eyes moistened and sparkled like the ring he held out to her in the moon's gentle light. But she could only think, shouldn't she feel happier than this?

"Will you marry me?"


	7. Leisurely Jaunt Through The Countryside

**Gentle Hurtings**

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**Chapter 7 - A Leisurely Jaunt Through The Countryside**

They travelled out of the city in an almost pleasant silence, the misty smog that usually settled over Bowerstone Industrial thick and calm, shining pale against the moon's reflecting light. Raine was somewhat surprised Reaver had managed to keep his mouth shut for so long. In fact, were it not for the clip-clop of his snowy steed's hooves falling behind those of her black mare, she could have suspected him gone entirely. She tossed a glance over her shoulder to him. He looked calm and casual as ever, leaning back in the saddle with one hand loosely holding his horse' reins and the other resting nonchalantly over his holstered gun. He noticed the movement of her turning slightly to glimpse, and he threw another arrogant smirk her way.

She smiled politely in turn, only rolling her eyes when he couldn't see her face again, and looked to her left. Beside her, the faithful canine Justice was padded the ground happily, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Around them, the streets had emptied. Most people did not stick around long after working hours. Industrial was too shady a place for that. The only souls about now were staggering drunks and seedy-looking figures who slumped quickly on into the shadows upon noticing them. The sooner they made it out of Bowerstone the better... She craved the wide, open spaces, the countryside that was so long her only traveling companion (save for Justice, of course). She had a feeling her newest companion would not be quite as pleasant in the months to come. That was a slight disappointment. Being alone on the road was a gift, plenty of room to think and no people that needed her constant attention. She could forget, at least for a while. Forget about all the weight that had come to rest upon her shoulders. With a sigh, she focused down on her own hands, absentmindedly twisting the small yet dazzling trinket on her ring finger.

"Isn't that just _lovely..." _She heard a low laugh, an amused scoff really, come from her side and she quickly turned her head in the direction. She was startled to find Reaver had urged his stallion right beside hers so stealthily. Or had she simply been paying such poor attention to her surroundings? She mentally scolded herself for the possibility. "Tell me, my Queen. Were you planning on telling him about your little issue before or after the wedding?" Reaver taunted, and Raine's fist clutched over the other as if to hide the ring.

The Queen stared ahead, not wanting to look at him, but she could easily discern the barb in his voice. Why did he find so much mirth in the torment of others? It'd be a lie to say she'd never taken pleasure in another person's pain before, whether she had been the one to inflict it or not. She was a fair Queen, but a great deal less pure than the benevolent ruler her subjects wished her to be. Of course, there was nothing pleasurable about the misery now when it was her own. "Reaver, we aren't even out of Bowerstone." Raine commented, her tone cool and clipped, doing well not to betray her emotions. "Please, wait until we reach at least Brightwall to start making me regret bringing you along."

Raine was pleasantly astounded that the man respected this wish, though not without a bitter chuckle, and even more pleased when he did not speak again for a long while. There was silence all through the night as they road. In fact, it was she who spoke next, and even then the sun had just come up over the horizon, light yellow rays shining through the thin forest fog.

"Keep an eye out for hollowmen..." She warned, tuning out the snort that came from Reaver as he questioned the ability of the simple-minded stalks of bones against his own brilliance. If the muggy, soggy smell wasn't enough to let one know this was Mourningwood, the pools of misty water and groans of far off living-dead creatures certainly conveyed the had long since emerged from the civilization of Bowerstone. Oddly enough, they had met with no contenders through the night, but Raine knew they were never far off, especially now.

Suddenly, as she thought this, she heard something. A minute growl, a twig snapping somewhere it shouldn't. It'd been so short, she couldn't be sure if it was even there. Still, in an almost deer-like action, she craned her neck instantly to the side with broad, alert eyes scanning the thin line where the reaching trees and soggy grass hills met on either side of the dirt trail, tracing over the swamp-scape with attentive caution. She was expecting to see a series of blue wisps dancing about, or even pairs of glowing eyes staring back at her from the gray dawn. At least a shadow moving somewhere, but she saw nothing.

"Are you even listening to me? I say, rather rude of you to check out in the midst of company..." Reaver's chiding voice interrupted her thoughts, and she realized he'd been talking the whole time she was looking. In lieu of appeasing him with the apology he didn't deserve apologizing, she only snapped her head back to face him and halted her horse. He had his own mount mimicked the motion behind hers.

"Well, I beg your pardon, _Master _Reaver." She snapped in a seething, sarcastic tone at his self-obsession. "I shall endeavor to focus more of my attention on you."

"There, that's more like it." Reaver said, surely sensing the obvious sarcasm but acting as though he took her seriously. "Now, pay attention. There could be all sorts of nasties lurking about these woods." He must have known that would just make her even more angry, and thus amuse him further, for that was exactly what happened.

"You are just...impossible, Reaver! I cannot believe how-" She was about to begin a rant on his stupidity, his carelessness for the safety of them both, not to mention the child she was carrying. But she froze as he made a motion quick as lightening for the pistol at his side. She barely had time to think _oh God, he's going to shoot me_ before a bullet whizzed on past her ear.

The thunder of the pistol was followed by an embarrassingly frightened squeak escaping her lips before the crashing, gnashing sound of bones splitting and death groaning resonated just behind her. She whipped her head around in time to see a hollowman's scattered parts fall to the ground. Somewhat slack-jawed at how close of a call that'd been, she turned back to face Reaver.

The industrialist had already dismounted his horse, and withdrawn his sword before she even had time to thank him. Oh well, she figured, seeing how if it weren't for him she would have seen the corpse beforehand easily, she decided a thanks was not in order. Briefly, it flicked across her mind that she'd never seen Reaver in true combat. He moved with impressive fluidness with a sword in one hand, slashing at those who got too close, and shooting at others from a distance.

"Well, my Queen? Are you just going to sit there and look elegant or are you going to help me dispose of this filth?" Reaver called as he brought down two more skeletons.

Remembering herself, she jumped off her mare and sent a jolt of the Blades spell to take down several hollowmen running at her. Her sword, so appropriately named The Slaughterer, sang as she unsheathed it, ready for battle. Gripping the osseous handle tightly, she swiped it through the scant and fragile bone. Raine jumped out the way of a hollowman charging at her, driving her weapon into its back with disturbing ease as it passed her. She was given no moment's rest before the next blue wisp dug into the ground between her feet. Jumping just in time, she dodged the stalk of bones sprouting up like a weed from the earth. She swiped at it quickly, but it blocked smartly for a creature with no brains. It began its own slashes towards her, both of its curved weapons coming down on her. She parried the first, but the second managed to snatch her shirt and broke one of the front strings in the process. A malicious growl escaped her lips, and she held her strong arms out by her sides, gauntlets beginning to glow. She glanced toward Reaver to find he was certainly not struggling to keep up with the undead men. In fact, she saw a genuine sort of joy in his face and he looked like he might laugh aloud as another pile of bones rolled across the wet grass. But as her eyes caught his and he saw her intentions, he quickly took several large steps back from the danger zone that her Will posed.

She felt the power peaking, and quickly surged the energy into the ground with one gauntleted fist. The force exerted a loud groan from her gut, and she felt an incredible weakness in her knees for just a split second. Quickly, she regained herself and withdrew her sword again. But when she looked around, she noticed the ground was littered with skinless bodies still twitching and jerking from the electricity that streamed through them. Sighing in half exhaustion, half relief, she held her head in one hand. How odd... She had never experienced such a drained feeling after such a simple encounter. With hollowmen, of all things.

"Bravo, Your Majesty." Reaver's tone intercepted her thoughts once more, and she heard the thud of leather on leather as he clapped his gloved hands together slowly a few times. "You certainly put those simpleton skeletons in their place. I dare say, it was even more entertaining to witness a second time." He bellowed. Only Reaver could sound so smug when paying compliments to someone else.

She growled at the memory of fighting hollowmen alongside Page in one of Reaver's many rooms. "Shut up, Reaver..." The Queen murmured, far too fed-up to think about her courtesy. They mattered so very little in the grand scheme of it all. On the sly, her eyes slid to him in malicious hopes of seeing just a bit of a scratch, a tired look in his eyes, anything that would lead her to believe he'd had to exert as much of himself in the battle as she had, and that he was _not_ as invincible as he had always boasted of being. Of course, she found nothing but a bit of a tousled look to his hair that hardly took away from his charming appearance. That joy was still flickering in his eyes. _He enjoys killing as much as I do_, she thought.

_The price to pay for Hero's blood_, she'd once heard her father say to her brother one day when she'd watched them train with swords,_ is that they always crave spilling the blood of others. It was up to the Hero how well he, or she, could control such a lust. _She could remember Logan telling her years later that the man they call Reaver was a Hero whose lust was strong and whose control was weak.

**-x- **

They moved at an unconsciously slow pace and did not reach Brightwall until the faint orange glow of dusk was setting upon them. The first day had been rather uneventful. They had only encountered a few more sets of enemies on their travels, a band of simple hobbes every now and then, nothing seriously threatening, and they came to find that between the two of them they hardly needed to dismount their horses to dispatch the entire lot.

At this, Raine was surprised. Foolishly, she had begun to wonder if every day of their journey would be so easy. Of course, she quickly realized how witless it would be to assume that, so she directed her mind to another field. She wanted to keep traveling, and knew it would be best if they did, but her strength was ebbing. Reaver on his pretty, white horse had taken the lead sometime ago, and she'd started to doze in her saddle, dazed by the gentle swaying of her horse and waking up with a startled flinch every time her head would start to fall forward. Occasionally, Reaver even had to stop and wait up on her. That never went without some snide comment passing his smirking lips, but at least he bothered to wait at all.

It was strange. Normally she could travel for days and never stop, her Hero blood giving her unbelievable endurance. But now, she felt fatigued, hungry, and sore. They had been riding for a full day now, only stopping to confront any enemies they crossed, and Raine found that even that had been a challenge. The skirmishes had drawn from her deep well of strength far more than they usually did, filling her with a deep sense of dread in its place. She knew what was causing this. Now she was not supplying just one life with the store of her energy, but two. She had not thought the side effects would hinder their journey much at all, but now it seemed she had been wrong. However, she was too tired even to contemplate the fullness this problem posed, and she was certainly not about to mention it to Reaver. But she had to say something, or else she was going to faint from exhaustion, and falling from her mount was not something she wished for him to witness.

Contemplating, she lifted her eyes towards Reaver as he rode several paces in front of her. "Reaver..." She said gently.

"Yes, my Queen?" He answered, and though he did not turn to address her, she could hear the smirk in his tone, the smirk that was no doubt brought on by her meek voice.

"We will have to stop for the night, I...don't think the horses can take much more." She tried, hoping he would buy the excuse. This time he did turn slightly, but only to offer a cursory glance over her horse before setting his eyes straight again..

"They both look fine to me." He replied curtly. "After all, I believe you said you wanted to stop as little as possible..."

Raine sighed heavily. Things could never be simple or shallow with this man, everything had to have a justified reason and nothing could be taken at face value. "I'm tired, Reaver. We're stopping." She ordered, clearing her voice before she spoke to make sure it came out strong and firm enough to leave no room for argument.

When he moved to face her again, he looked into her tired eyes, a touch of almost-concern flirting with the arrogance in his expression. "You're _tired_?" He asked. Raine stared at the man, daring him to comment further. He seemed to get the message and just shrugged, chuckling slightly as he turned back around. "Fine. Well, Brightwall's just ahead. I'm sure they have some filthy, little inn for Her Majesty to lay her weary head." His comment stirred her anger, but Raine didn't have the energy to debate him on the state of the little town, so she replied with little more than a low hum of agreement.

The people were gracious as ever to see the Queen, though they looked cautiously from her to the man she was with. Reaver's face was known far and wide throughout Albion, and the opinions it surfaced were not good ones, not in the slightest. So many of the townsfolk kept their distances. She was thankful for it, being in no mood to hear what anyone had to say or ask of her. Somewhere in the back of her tired mind, she was angry for being seen with him, allied with him in anyway. It did nothing to improve the people's image of her, which was already questionable in certain places. At least Brightwall was least among them that held such opinions of her, for she had helped them largely throughout the revolution. Still, they were wary enough of the pair not to approach with questions.

They stumbled into the inn, ate a quick meal, and then asked about a room. The man behind the counter of Ye Quill and Quandary looked uneasy. "Erm... We have but one room, Majesty... And so, only one bed."

She nearly groaned at the thought of having to explain herself, so she was immensely grateful when Reaver spoke up for her. "Just give us the damned room, boy..." He said, or more so growled to the worker, sounding much less posh than she'd ever heard him sound.

The room was given to her free of charge, presumably because she was the Queen, but Reaver was a likely factor in the matter as well. She took the steps too quickly, feeling her head spin when she stopped at the top. She felt herself sway backwards, hardly even thinking to catch herself until she felt a sharp grab on her upper arm, something firm and warm pressing against her back. Confused at first, she turned her head to look sideways behind her. Reaver was smirking down at her, his tall form saving her from a long roll down the steps. Hardly in a cognitive state, she hadn't the desire to debate on the impropriety of the position, so she only mumbled a thanks and let him guide her into the room.

She collapsed promptly on the bed, kicking her boots off and curling under the covers. "We'll leave at sunrise. You'll sleep on the floor..." She murmured tiredly into the pillow.

She was somewhat mindful of Reaver's laugh, followed by his protest, the darkness of the room surrounding her as he blew out the candles. The last she was aware of was the bed sinking down on the side opposite from hers, but before she had the chance to turn around, sleep had taken hold of her.

* * *

**{A/N - Hello, beloved readers! I'd like to thank you all again for your kind comments and taking the time to tell me what you think. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you will all enjoy reading the rest of it!}**


	8. Hidden Meanings

**Gentle Hurtings  
**

Warnings: Profanity

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Hidden Meanings**

When Raine woke again, she was shivering, cold and hugging herself tightly for warmth. It took a moment of blinking her eyes into focus before she realized the bedsheets were gone. She looked confused about the dimly lit room bathed by the rising sun. Then she heard his deep breath beside her the very next second. Reaver lay asleep on the opposite side of the bed, wrapped up completely in the blankets with his back to her. She let out a frustrated scoff and gave him a forceful shove, finding strength had returned to her in sleep.

Reaver landed on the floor with a loud thud and a muffled grunt. "Fuck..." He cussed as he twisted in the blankets and looked up at her, anger and confusion burning bright in the green depths of his eyes. "What the hell?" He complained, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

She had never seen him in such a state. Here was the feared Reaver, his black-brown hair ruffled from sleep, sitting there on the floor wearing nothing but his breeches, the sheets twisted around his legs, fumbling curses out of his mouth. it was easy to discern that he was certainly a rough sleeper. She'd been so tired that he'd thankfully not woken her in the night. He was usually so calm, cool, and sure of himself that the shape of him now was comical, enough to make a strangely placed laugh bubble up out of Raine's throat.

"Bitch..." The man growled and glared at her, earning only another chuckle from the Queen at his continued rough language. He shuffled out from beneath the covers and got up with a sigh, hand still rubbing his head through his tousled hair. Only then did she notice the worried expression contorting his face, the tired and dark circles under his eyes. And then she remembered: the nightmares.

She'd learned about them long ago, when she'd been but a girl exploring through her father's study and perhaps looking through things she had no business with. She had found Reaver's diary easily enough, and could still remembering her fear, reading about the terrible nightmares he suffered on account of his dealings with the Shadow Court. Suddenly she felt somewhat guilty for having roused him so roughly.

Reaver had gone over to the wash basin on the table in the room's corner, splashed water on his face and held his hands there for a moment, head bowed and seeming to forget she was there. She found herself looking away, feeling odd as though she was witnessing something entirely too intimate. Tentatively she cleared her throat and watched his shoulders tense at the sound. "We'll need to leave soon." She told him, sitting over the edge of the bed to pull her boots on. Reaver harrumphed, but eventually moved to ready himself.

**-x-**

They were quickly underway as the sun began to peak over the mountain tops, making the world glow golden and rosy. By the time they made off, Reaver looked as he always did. His hair was in place, as was his attire, and he did not look as sickly pale as he had in the room. But despite his ever-present smirk, Reaver seemed to be in an ill-humor for the rest of the morning. And thus, they travelled in relative silence for along while once again. It was not until they were trudging through Mistpeak Valley that Reaver spoke up again, and even then, he only did so to complain.

Raine had been enjoying the serenity and quietude of the snow-covered slopes, always more tranquil than any place in Albion. When she first began the revolution, the valley had been an enemy to her with its treacherous heights, its gelid winds and its infestations of wolves and bandits. But now the Queen had become rather adapted to it. By the looks of it, both her furry traveling companion and her human one were unaffected by the cold. The latter was a surprise, for she had been expecting Reaver to whine about the chilly weather. But she guessed he had grown accustomed to it as well, given the many trips he'd had to take to these mountains during the building of his industries' Monorail.

"Your Majesty," Reaver huffed, his breath visible in the air. There was no mistaking the objection in his tone, and the Queen feared she'd thought too soon about his lack of complaining. "All respect intended, certainly," His tongue dripped with false reverence, and a purposefully poor disguise of sarcasm as due regard for the monarch. "But this seems a rather..._illogical_ route to take. Would you not agree?"

Raine rolled her eyes, amused. "No, Reaver. I wouldn't." She bluntly stated, not even looking back to where his horse followed several steps behind her.

"I was merely suggesting that a safer route might be more practical." He said. Certainly, Reaver was hoping they might find a passage that went around the highest peaks of the mountains to get to the other side, while Raine had no qualms about scaling over the slopes. It might have been more dangerous, but Raine had never feared danger, it was certainly quicker way after all.

"Reaver, I realize you've been around for _centuries_," She spat, cold as the winds that blew against them. "But I know this land better than anyone. This is _my_ Albion."

"_Your _Albion?" One corner of his mouth lifted, allowing a sly grin to slide onto his features, much like the way a snake would slither across the ground. "Now, where have I heard _that _before."

A blush came unbidden to her cheeks, thankfully hidden already by the coldness turning her face red. Reaver did not miss it of course, and his smirk only widened. Those words she said, they were the exact words of her brother, Logan the Tyrant. The pang of guilt was great as she remembered the context she'd taken those word in. She'd thought he meant to destroy Albion, when he only ever meant to do just what she was doing now: save it. "Go to hell." She muttered darkly at her traveling companion. As predicted, he was hardly offended by the gesture.

"I shall see you their, my dear Queen. And probably soon, if you do intend to climb these mountains." Reaver had pulled his point up beside her, but she did not turn to face him.

"I've climbed up to the Dweller Camp countless times. It is not so far from the tops of the mountains."

"Perhaps not," Reaver agreed, nodding. "However, people have been doing that very same thing since long before you were even born, my dear. Few have lived to tale the tale about scaling the heights beyond." Raine opened her mouth to speak here, but she was silenced by Reaver's continued speech. "A path around the mountains would be immensely less dangerous to travel."

Raine shook her head at him in annoyance. "Since when do you care about what's more or less a danger, Reaver? You've got to be one of the biggest risk-takers I've ever known."

For a moment, he had no ready reply. When he spoke again, his voice retained all of it's elegance, yet it was oddly quiet for a man of his confidence. "Well, I am not merely looking out for only myself in this instance, your highness."

She did look at him then. How could she not? Reaver's words did not usually have such a meaning to them. In her disbelief, she had to assume that he'd meant nothing by it at all in truth. Yet something honest had flashed through his eyes as she met them. He looked away before she was able to fully asses the little flicker. But it was different, she knew that much, even at his next statement. "It would be a pity for you to fall to your death, and leave your defenseless to the coming Darkness so early in to your own rule."

Perhaps she would never know what he truly had meant, but part of her dared to believe that Reaver might have actually cared what happened to her, at least some small amount. The simple hope of it was enough to make her smile subtly to herself. Reaver did not see it though. He'd set his eyes forward as soon as he'd said the words, and did not dare look at her again. With a heavy sigh, she had to admit her defeat. "Very well, Reaver. If you find a better passage, we will take it."

Reaver smirked, "Ah, there is sense in you yet." Was all he arrogantly stated before he urged his horse forward. Raine fell in step behind him. Left in silence, her thoughts kept wondering to his previous words, perplexed by what they truly could have meant.


End file.
